“I’m not, but my family’s roots are in the South. I actually grew up in New Jersey. My father was transferred to Trenton when I was three. My sister and I were raised in the North.” Jorden laughed, “I’m the baby; Bobbette’s two years older. Can’t you tell from our names, my Dad wanted a boy? But he seems happy with us.” She kept talking even after their pizza and Heinekens arrived. After her second slice she paused. “Now tell me about you.”

“Not much to tell.” He brushed several crumbs off the table.

“I don’t believe you.”

Matt looked out the window. “My parents died soon after I turned two.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I barely remember them. My grandmother raised me—the Athabascan side of my family.”

“Ath-a-bas-can?” Jorden had never heard the term before.

“Athabascan, my Indian side, comes from the interior region of Alaska. My roots are along the Yukon River.” Jorden looked at him with a blank expression.

“You don’t know much about Alaska do you? Let me start over and make it simpler. Ma—I mean Grandma is my Indian side. Her husband, my grandfather, is my Irish side. He was born in Ireland but migrated to the States as a young man. Eventually, he made his way to Alaska which is where he met and married Grandma. After having several children, they moved from their village on the Yukon River to Fairbanks. My grandfather died long before I was born. I never knew him.”

“So your last name, Ulster, comes from your father’s side of the family—right?” Jorden asked.

“You got it. He’s my Irish side. After my parents died, Grandma took care of me, and then we moved to Anchorage where I grew up.”

“Anchorage.” The city sounded familiar to Jorden. “I remember the gigantic earthquake. Were you there when it happened?”

“No, I was at the university in Fairbanks. We felt it, but the quake’s center was almost four hundred miles south of us.” Matt looked at the pizza. “Do you mind if I take this last slice?”

“Go ahead, I can’t finish this one.” Jorden looked at her third slice—she had hardly touched it since Matt started talking.

Matt peeled off a piece of pepperoni and plopped it into his mouth. Jorden sensed he was relieved he wouldn’t have to go into more details about his background. Talking about the 1964 earthquake seemed much easier for him, for whatever reason.

Jorden had seen coverage of the earthquake televised on the news. “When did it happen?”

“Back in March of 1964. Um . . . March 27 sticks in my mind. They called it the Good Friday earthquake. It was a big one—close to 9.2.”

“I remember lots of destruction from the news.” Jorden pushed aside her plate.