"It's the answer to your question, dear. 'How many drinks did Charley feed you?'"
"Very funny," she said. "Hello, Charley, how are you?"
Castillo held up three fingers.
"Haven't changed a bit, have you, handsome?" she asked, and kissed his cheek.
Neidermeyer was by then standing outside the van.
"Mrs. W., this is Jamie Neidermeyer," Castillo said.
"Hello, Jamie," she said.
"He and Charley are tied together," General Wilson said. "He's got a radio in that suitcase."
"Hello, Charley," Mrs. Randolph Richardson said from behind her mother. "How nice to see you again."
She's still a looker, still looks like a younger version of her mother.
And why do I suspect she's less thrilled than her father and mother that Good Ole Charley's coming to dinner?
"It's nice to see you, too, Beth," Castillo said. "Beth, this is my communicator-and friend-Jamie Neidermeyer."
"Hello, Jamie," Beth said, offering her hand.
"Jamie's going to need a place to put a small dish antenna," General Wilson said.
"A what?"
"A DirecTV antenna," Wilson said. "Except it's not. It's the satellite antenna for the radio in his suitcase. What about the patio?"
Beth smiled uneasily.
A small, dressed-for-company girl, about six years old, pushed past Beth and called out, "Grandpa!"
Another girl, about eleven or twelve and who looked like her mother and grandmother, came through the door, followed finally by a boy Castillo guessed to be about twelve or thirteen.
"Charley," Beth said. "This is Randy, the Fourth, and Bethany-"
"The third?" Castillo asked.
"Girls don't usually do that," Beth said. "And Marjorie. This is Colonel Castillo. You know who he is?"
None of the three had a clue.
"This is Dona Alicia's grandson," Beth explained.
The boy showed a very faint glimmer of interest; the girls none at all.
"Grandpa Wilson flew with Colonel Castillo's father in Vietnam," Mrs. Bethany Wilson said.
"And Daddy and Colonel Castillo were friends, classmates, at West Point," Beth Richardson said.
This produced the same level of fascination and excitement as had the previous footnotes to history.
They're not being rude, Castillo thought. They just don't give a damn. And why should they?
Something did excite Marjorie, the smallest: "There's a dog in Grandpa's car!"