“So I felt like a salad, Jackie. What are you getting at?”

“You’re not drinking as much beer, either. Try to deny it.”

I held up my hands. “Guilty. You busted me.”

“You’re working out, too. I can tell.”

“You’ve been bugging me for years to take better care of myself,” I said. “So now maybe I am. Is there something wrong with that?”

“You finally decided to listen to me? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, Alex. It is. You’ve never listened to me. Not once.”

The door opened at that moment, saving me from Jackie’s third degree. It was my friend and neighbor, Vinnie LeBlanc, bringing in a blast of cold wet air.

“Holy Christ,” Jackie said. “You can smell the snow coming. It makes my bones hurt.”

“Who’s winning?” Vinnie said as he took off his coat. It was a denim coat with a fur collar, the only coat I’d ever seen him wear, no matter how cold it got. He was an Ojibwa Indian, a member of the Bay Mills community. He had moved off the reservation a few years ago, and had bought the land down the road from mine and had built his own cabin. We were friends for a while, and then we weren’t. Then I helped him look for his brother. What we found was a hell of a lot of trouble, but somehow we also found our friendship again. Just like that, without a word.

“Wings,” I said. “Two to one. They just waved one off for Colorado.”

He sat down next to me and asked Jackie for a 7 Up. The man never touched alcohol, going on nine years straight.

“Jackie’s right,” Vinnie said. “It’s gonna snow. You better not be too far away from home when it does.”

“That’s a good one,” Jackie said. “Since when does Alex go anywhere?”

Vinnie looked down at his glass. He rattled the ice. He had a smile on his face, a smile so subtle you wouldn’t even see it if you didn’t know the man as well as I did.