"I'm flattered," he said.
"You know Mr. Needham, I believe, Cletus?" the Old Man said.
"No, Sir, I don't believe I do."
Mr. Needham was a bald, nearly obese middle-aged man who had removed his jacket and rolled up his white shirtsleeves so that he could more easily prac-tice his art.
He was standing before an oil portrait of Cletus Howell Frade in a Marine Officer's dress-blue uniform. He turned to look at Clete, smiled, wiped his hand on a rag, and extended it to Clete.
"I'm honored to meet you, Sir," he said. "A genuine privilege to meet one of our country's heroes."
Clete looked uncomfortable.
"How do you do?" he said, then: "I didn't know you could do that."
"Do what?" his grandfather asked.
"What's the word? 'Fix'? 'Change'? Go back and change one of those once it was done."
"Of course you can. That's an oil portrait, not a photograph," the Old Man said.
"I'm really glad you're here, Major," Mr. Needham said. "I want everything to be just right."
He pointed to Clete's dress-blue tunic, laid out, complete to Sam Browne belt and officer's saber, against the back of a red leather couch.
"I had Antoinette bring that down from your room," the Old Man said. "Mr. Needham had little difficulty changing your rank insignia to a major's. Your decorations-including that Navy Cross you somehow forget to tell me about-posed more of a problem."
"It looks fine to me," Clete said after comparing the tunic with the nearly complete work on the portrait. "I'm really impressed with someone like you, Mr. Needham. I can't draw a straight line."
"How is it, Cletus," the Old Man pursued, "that I had to learn of your Navy Cross from Senator Brewer?"
"What's the name of that play? Much Ado About Nothing?"
"They don't hand out the Navy Cross for nothing," the Old Man said. "You can tell us about it now."
Jean-Jacques appeared with four Sazeracs in long-stemmed glasses on a silver tray.
"Saved by the Sazeracs," Clete said, taking one. "Thank you, Jean-Jacques."
"I don't recall asking for a Sazerac," the Old Man said.
"Not to worry, Jean-Jacques," Martha said. "If he doesn't want his, Mr. Needham, Cletus, and I will split it."
"I didn't say I didn't want it, I said I didn't remember asking for it," the Old Man said. "Thank you, Jean-Jacques."
Needham took his glass and raised it to Clete.
"To your very good health, Sir," he said.
"Thank you," Clete said.
"Hear, hear," the Old Man said.
Clete sipped his Sazerac, then set it down and opened the brown paper bag, taking from it a pair of binoculars.
"What have you got there?" the old man asked.
"A pair of Bausch and Lomb 8-by-57-mm binoculars," Clete replied. "I just bought them. I'm sure they're stolen."