ung in there and repurchased the mill that they had established in
Wales. They issued stock for operating capital and began to produce
test quantities of the new steel. Joe bought the stock at .75, roughly
the value of the existing mill and property (if the .75 were multiplied
by the number of shares outstanding). His thinking was that he was
getting the life's work of the Italian for nothing and that the product
was bound to catch on eventually. For a small added expense, the life
of a bridge could be effectively doubled. The Brit had a track record
of success. He owned a significant fraction of the company, and hadn't
sold a single share. The company would either license the process to a
steel giant or be bought outright. Joe was fairly sure of this. The
question was when. He had learned his lesson with Southwest Precious
Metals, and he bought for the long haul, an investment, not a trade.
"Definitely fun," he said in the direction of Maine and his father whom
he thought of as still being somewhere near the barn.

On Thanksgiving, after his second annual dinner of parrot fish and
black bean sauce, Joe returned home and pushed the play button on the
answering machine. He heard piano chords, an intro, and then Isabelle's
rich low voice. "Joe, where are you tonight?" A few bars of melody
followed. "Joe . . . " She broke off with a strained laugh and hung up.

"Uh, oh," Joe said. She sounded drunk and far away, as though she were
trying to sing across an ocean. He didn't think that she was on the
island. "Good thing," he said to himself. But he was sad for her. The
old Johnny Cash song went through his mind: _You've got to walk that
lonesome valley. You've got to walk it by yourself_ . . . She was in
trouble for sure. The phone rang. He hesitated and picked it up on the
third ring.

"Hello, Joe."

"Jason?"

"Yup."

"Jesus, I thought it was someone else. Glad it's you. Long time! How
are you?"

"Fine. I'm passing through, thought I'd give you a call and see if we
could get together."

"Sure, great!" They arranged to meet for an early breakfast as Jason
was flying out the next day.

In the morning, Joe spotted Jason at a corner table in the Ilikai.

"You're looking good, man." Jason had a strong build when he was in
high school. He'd put on additional bulk and projected an air of
invincible solidity. His hair was closely trimmed; his clothes were
casual and elegant.

"You too," Jason said. His blue eyes twink