id he wanted to but he wasn't feeling up to the trip."

"Very artistic," Gino said. "And this too." He held up a knight from
Jackson's chess set which was laid out on a table beneath the painting.
He spun the piece slowly between his thumb and forefinger.

"Jackson made those," Joe said.

"Very nice. Do you play chess, Joe?"

"Yes, but . . . "

"How about a game?"

Joe didn't want to play. He had been too well taught, and he wanted to
drink and drift around. "On the porch, yes?" Gino picked up the board
and carried it to an outside table. Joe followed reluctantly. "Wine,
Joe! Wine for chess! The Merlot." He rubbed his hands together
cheerfully. Joe gave up and fetched a bottle and two glasses from the
kitchen.

"Corkscrew," Joe said to himself, but before he could move, Gino held
up an elegantly curved pocket knife and corkscrew. He had the cork out
by the time Joe sat down.

"Families," he toasted. Joe nodded. The wine was soft and bursting with
flavor.

"Oh, boy," Joe said.

"A small estate, a good year," Gino said. He held out his fists, a pawn
hidden in each. Joe pointed, received white, and opened pawn to king's
four. Gino took a sip of wine and began a Sicilian defense. Monica or
Jesse was taking her turn throwing the frisbee for the dog. About ten
moves into a slowly developing game, Gino reached forward, drove his
bishop through Joe's position, and leaned back. Joe was shocked. He
didn't want to look at Gino. He didn't need to; the real man was on the
board. He cleared his throat and breathed deeply. Gino had taken his
knight. It was a forced exchange; he had no choice but to take Gino's
bishop and wreck his own defense. Gino gathered for attack, and Joe
went into full retreat, playing for time, hoping for a mistake. Twenty
moves later he conceded.

"Ah, nice game, Joe." Gino tossed off the rest of his wine.

"We must have another," Joe said, "after I have a brain transplant and
read a few books."

"Ha, ha. Very artistic," Gino repeated, holding up a bishop. Joe
retreated to the kitchen for a piece of bread.

"Jesus Christ," he said to Sally in a low voice.

"You lasted longer than most," she said. "I thought I saw him think a
couple of times." Rolf appeared and clunked a jar down on the counter.

"Capers," he said. "What for?"

"Crab cakes," Kate said. More people arrived. Kate's friends continued
to pile food and dishes on the table in the back yard. One couple
brought an enormous smoked