acher."

"I grew up on lessons," Willow said. "I think I had too many. When I
was in Woodstock, I used to go up to AhnRee's and play his piano, try
to write songs. I found that I couldn't. It was a great disappointment.
It was like I was too grooved in the classical; I couldn't get loose,
couldn't get away from it. I guess if I were really talented I would
have blown it off and done my own thing." She paused. "I wouldn't push
it too hard. Nudge, maybe. Scone?"

Cree's face lit up as she bit into the scone. "Mighty fine," she said.

"That's what I do best," Willow said. "It's a wonder I can still see my
feet. I'm starting a cafe in January."

"Spectacular! I'll be there. You look terrific. I'm the blimp. I'll
think about the music lessons. Thanks, Willow." They watched the
Mustangs struggle. The other team was doing most of the attacking.
"What's your little one like? . . . Dylan?"

"Right. After Bob," Willow said. "He's more even tempered than Martin,
but he's pretty intense. Quiet. He's got a thing for cats, which I take
to be a good sign." The attackers lined up for a corner kick. "What
ever happened to Joe Burke?"

"Oh, Joe." Cree smiled. "He was something. He and Sally went to Hawaii
to live, then they broke up. He's in Maine. They had a daughter. He's
remarried, I think."

"He was interesting," Willow said.

"Yeah. If the situation had been a little different . . . " She raised
one eyebrow. "I don't think he ever found a place where he fit in. The
good old days," Cree said. "When you showed up in Woodstock, you had a
friend."

"Amber," Willow said.

"Wasn't she from the Bay Area?"

"Yep--she's in Vancouver, Washington, now. She's a pediatrician. She
married a developer with pots of money. They have two spoiled kids."

"She was gorgeous," Cree said.

"She's hanging in there," Willow said. "A line of men was following her
around in the mall the last time I saw her."

"Men." Cree shook her head. "They come in handy at a picnic--as my
mother used to say. You got the last good one. Patrick is a sweetie."

"As long as you put the pliers back. Jesus." Willow said. There was a
great commotion from the attackers as they ran back towards their own
goal holding their arms in the air. Mustangs down, one-zip. "Oh, dear."

"We will conquer," Cree said.

"Martin's going to be upset. He's planning to be a World Cup goalie."

"He carries himself like Patrick. Where did the name come from?"

"My father's na