Flat out there today, Buddha thought. First day of winter, you'd expect more, but you never know. Sometimes it's flat, other times it's not. That's the ocean. It does what it wants.

For the first day of winter, it was pretty warm for the Florida East Coast. The sun was shining down strongly, despite being pretty far to the south for midmorning. Wouldn't be a bad day to be out there if there were some waves, but without them, there probably won't be much happening today.

"Voudrais tu plus de café?" Giselle asked from back in the showroom.

"Oui, Giselle. J'ai la langue à terre," he replied, leaning back in his chair at the table under the awning in front of B&G's Surf Shop. Not going to be much to do but sit around and guzzle coffee, anyway, he thought. Might perk up a little later.

In a moment, Giselle appeared, carrying a couple mugs. She set them down on the table, and Buddha couldn't help but look at her again, tall and lean and lanky in tight jeans and a T-shirt, her long blonde hair in a braid hanging down to her fanny. Still has the body of a woman of twenty, he thought, and hell, that's a quarter century ago. Her skin's taken a beating in all the sun, but it just makes her more lovely. She gets out on a wave and she looks like a sea goddess on a surfboard, something from the sea itself, a part of her. Always did, even when I was first teaching her to surf. She'd appeared one winter long ago, from out of nowhere, not long after he'd started the place. She'd been trying to get away from winter in Montreal for a week, and she'd just never left. And now, their kids were grown and gone. Where did the time go?

"Merci, mon ami," he replied. When it was just the two of them they talked in French just to stay in practice. She'd hardly had a word of English when she first came here, and French was one of four languages he spoke fluently. But he -- and the sea -- were why they had stayed together. Buddha had always been pretty good on a surfboard, he'd won contests when he was younger, but Giselle had soon blossomed into the best he'd ever seen. She's from the sea itself, but aren't we all?

She took a seat at the table and looked out over the ocean, obviously wishing it were up a bit and that she was out there. Sometimes there wasn't much to say, and this was one of those times. He looked over at her again, content with the way things were. They had each other, they had the sea, and they had their own little place on the shore. Who could ask for more?

Thank God for the Nature Conservancy. He'd never have been able to hold on to a tiny operation like this any other way, the way real estate prices along the ocean were going. It had been dumb luck and being in the right place at the right time that had allowed him to buy the battered, abandoned sea shell shop and little house across A1A from the ocean. It was in a spot where there was a pretty good break most of the time, except when it was as flat as it was today. There had been a couple of houses not far down the shore in one direction -- they were gone, and had been replaced with condo complexes. There was a nature preserve on the other side, so the place was still pretty open and wild on a coast that was filling with condos for rich bastards. Years ago he'd turned down over a million dollars for this patch of sand and swamp and scrub, but he'd realized that sooner or later someone was going to come along and try to zone him out or tax him out, so he'd cut a deal with the Conservancy. He'd sold them the land for a buck -- and a life lease for him and his kids. That pretty well took him off the tax rolls, and the Conservancy had lawyers enough to keep the rich bastards off his ass. But, it meant that when he was gone there'd still be a patch of open coast where people could come and surf and be one with the sea, and his ashes would still be a part of the ocean and the shore. I did the right thing, he thought, not for the first time. Not a bad legacy for a professional beach bum.

The crunch of tires on the shell driveway yanked him out of his reverie. He looked up to see a car pulling in, a white, oh hell, Mustang or Cougar or something, he couldn't tell the difference. Kansas plates, though, and that was a little odd; didn't get a lot of people down here from Kansas. Strapped on the top of the car was a lime green Gaston, about an 804 or 806. An older one, five or six years old, judging by the fin. It'd seen some use, he could tell by the scratches. From the fading on the bottom, it'd spent some time in the sun. Not a beginner's board, but not top of the line, either -- a good board for a recreational surfer, but not the shortboard of a real hotdog. Unless the guy had bought it used some place, he was no poser. But, he could have bought it here; he'd carried Gastons for a long time.

The door opened, and a guy got out and stretched. He looked familiar -- middlin' tall, sandy hair, not bad looking. Not a lot of fat on him, seemed to be in good shape.

The guy came walking over to them. "Still at the same old stand, I see, Buddha," he smiled.

"Always," Buddha grinned. Yeah, this kid could surf. No real hotshot, but he'd liked it. "Troy something or other, isn't it? Don't know that I ever knew your last name."

"Trey," the guy grinned. "Trey Hartwell. I used to come down here when I was stationed at Ft. Stewart. Last time was four years ago, I guess."

"Yeah, there was you, and a guy named Gary, and a guy named Mike, and a guy named Zack, a couple other guys, once or twice," Buddha said, frowning a little. That accent wasn't Kansas, although there was a touch of it overlaying, well, northern Indiana or maybe northwest Ohio. "Gary dropped by a year or so ago, but I haven't seen the others since."

"Haven't heard from any of them since I got shipped out from Stewart," Trey replied. "How's Gary doing?"

"Pretty good, I guess," Buddha replied. "Had his wife with him, a little brunette, not bad looking, pretty pregnant. Had another kid with them."

"Must be Brittany," Trey said. "Never met her, but I saw her picture several times. He was kind of hooked on her."

"Yeah, that was her name now that you mention it," Buddha replied. He was a little surprised to have it in his memory. He remembered surfers pretty good, but hodads, well, they might get remembered and might not. "You still wearin' camo?"

"Not for years," Trey replied. "I'm in college now, a senior as of a few days ago."

"Grabbin' some of that GI Bill, huh? Majoring in anything interesting?"

"Business ad, but a theater arts minor."

"Guess there's hope for you," Buddha grinned. "You going to be down long?"

"A few days," Trey replied. "Shooting to be back in Indiana about the second."

"Staying around here?"

"Looking for a place to camp," he reported. "When I used to come down here with Gary and the others, we stayed at his grandparent's place, up in Melbourne. They let us use it so long as we didn't tear it up, so we kept it pretty cool. But, I remembered that you used to let people camp out back sometimes."

"Sometimes," Buddha admitted. "This place isn't licensed to be a pay campground, but I do let friends stay for free, sometimes."

"Well, now that you mention it," Trey said, obviously getting his meaning. "It has been a few years, so I could stand a lesson or two just to knock the rust off. Besides, the water is cold enough that I probably need a wet suit. A used one or a rental would be OK."

"Got a used one that'll probably fit you, and at a pretty good price," Buddha smiled. "When you set up your tent you might want to keep it off in the corner. I got a bunch of other friends coming in a few days."

"Thanks, Buddha," Trey smiled. "I really appreciate it. No surfing today, I take it?"

"Might blow up a little baby slop this afternoon, but I doubt it. Should perk up some tomorrow, and Giselle or I'll be glad to work with you then. In the meantime, you like a cup of coffee?"

* * *

The surf was pretty good on Christmas Day, but the place was dead; even some of the people who were in for the holiday were off doing Christmas stuff, Buddha thought. Well, except for Trey. He was out there surfing like he didn't have anything else to do, and from what little he'd learned he guessed that the kid didn't.

From his porch Buddha looked at him, right on the shoulder of a nice one. Yeah, he'd been a little bit rusty, but only a little bit for having laid off for four years. Giselle had taken him out in some building slop the day after he arrived and he'd done OK. Had a little trouble with cutbacks, but now that Buddha got thinking about it, the kid'd had some trouble with them when he was here years ago. In any case, Giselle had straightened him right out; now, he was out there in waist-high and chest-high stuff by himself, doing just fine.

One thing had become clear, right from the beginning: this kid was a real surfer, the kind Buddha liked. He was down here to surf, not to show off for the girls or play the poser. There was a big surf shop up in Melbourne that caught a lot of that traffic, kids who wanted to show off how cool they were by getting a couple of the right T-shirts, but were all hodads when they got on the waves, if they ever did at all. Buddha had never done much advertising for B&G's, but word of mouth was all he needed. The word was out all over the place that if you wanted T-shirts you went to Melbourne, but if you were a real surfer you came down here and hung out with the hardcores. That was just exactly how he wanted it, too; he didn't have much patience with smartass posers. If Trey lived near an ocean, he'd be a hardcore, that was clear, but stuck in cornfield Kansas, there wasn't the chance. But then, Buddha knew a lot of people, many of them regulars, who would be hardcores if they lived by the ocean. A bunch of them were due in tomorrow, including some special friends.

He looked up to see that Trey was heading in. Even with a wetsuit, it got cool out there, and when you got cold the best drill was to bake in the sun for a while, even though it wasn't all that damn warm out here today. Buddha got up, headed out across the highway -- traffic was light today -- and met Trey as he carried the Gaston up on the beach. It was a good board for him; he could probably handle something hotter, but if he was only going to do it every now and then, he probably ought to stay with it. "How's it going out there?" Buddha asked.

"Not bad," Trey grinned.

"You seem to be handling it pretty good," Buddha said. "Say, Trey," he continued, going on to what he really wanted to talk about. "You doing anything for dinner?"

"I dunno," Trey said. "Nothing special. Another can of beef stew, I guess."

Buddha smiled. "Well, if you'd like, you'd be welcome to join Giselle and me," he said. "No turkey I'm afraid, but she's going to grill some red snapper."

"Talked me into it," Trey said. "What time?"

"'Bout sunset," Buddha grinned. "Actually, they're lookin' so good I think I'll get out for a bit. Got a couple moves I could show you, if you like."

"Sounds good to me."

The sun was sinking low in the west as Buddha and Trey sat out behind the hill, watching Giselle handle the grill. The light smell of grilling fish filled the air as the two men sipped at Buds. They tended to eat a lot of fish, and Giselle was good at it. Her cooking was strongly French in style; it was what she'd grown up with, and Buddha had never had any reason to complain.

"Buddha, Giselle," Trey said. "Thanks for inviting me over. It was getting a little lonely."

"Kinda figured that," Buddha replied. "Truth be told, it's a little lonely for us, too, but it'll perk up in the next few days. We'd sorta hoped the kids might make it down, but they got families of their own, now. Oh, well, we'll see them sometime, sooner or later."

"You miss them?"

"Oh, yeah," Buddha said. "But hell, you can't stay young forever, I guess. How about you, Trey? You got a family?" The kid hadn't said much about anything like that. "Girlfriend, or anything like that?"

"No girlfriend, just a gal I go out with occasionally, but it's not going anywhere," he replied. "I've got family back in Indiana. It just wasn't a good time to be with them at Christmas, so I decided to head out."

"Problems?"

"Well, yeah," Trey said, and spent a minute or so explaining that his sister had been acting like a real bitch and that he'd be better off somewhere else. It was kind of sad, but Buddha knew other kids about his age who had lots worse problems with their families. At least this one planned to get back together with his parents after his sister was gone.

"Sorta know how that works," Buddha grinned. "My folks were never real happy that I decided to be a beach bum, so I went around that block with them some. My sister still thinks I'm crazy. Me, I think she is. You got to live your own life, I guess."

"How'd you get to be a beach bum, as you call it?" Trey asked. It was clear to Buddha that he was trying to change the subject.

"Just happened," Buddha grinned. "I'm from California originally. Just about grew up on Malibu. When we were in high school my surfing buddy, Al Buck, and I surfed all up and down the coast, and I guess the bug sort of bit. I had pretty good grades in high school. Well, Vietnam was going on then, and I didn't want to go in the Army, so I went to college, Hawaii and Santa Barbara, mostly because there was good surf. Al, well, he didn't want to go to college, so he joined the Army. After I finished up college, there just weren't any jobs in my field, so I decided to go surfing and see the country a little. Now the east coast surfing scene isn't what it is in California and Hawaii, never was, never will be, but I got the idea in my head that I could be a big fish in a small pond down here. So, I was sort of looking for a place to hang out and wound up here. I liked it pretty good, then Giselle came, and we just never left."

"Seems like it worked out pretty good for you. Did this Al make it out of Vietnam OK?"

"Oh, that's a story," Buddha grinned. "We sorta lost touch after I went to college, and I never heard from him. Well, a few years ago, we had this girl come down here every year on spring break, usually brought some friends with her. Good surfer, a natural, really loved it, and we kind of hit it off. Good kid, you know, lots of fun, and her friends were pretty fun, too. Well, anyway, Crystal got out of college and went off and did some other things, and she didn't show up here for a few years. Well, right after New Years a year ago, Giselle and I were sitting out under the awning, and this minivan pulls in, and Crystal hops out one side while people are piling out the other. She comes running up and says, 'Buddha, I'd like you to meet my mom and dad.'" He stopped and shook his head. "I tell you Trey, I never came closer to a heart attack in my life. I looked up, and here's Al. God, it must have been thirty years."

"No fooling?"

"Nope," Buddha grinned. "I mean, here's Crystal, a good kid, but her last name wasn't Buck, so I never even thought about it. Then, to find out Al is her dad . . . I mean, it was a real surprise."

"How come her last name wasn't 'Buck?'"

"That's another long story with a couple funny turns," Buddha snickered. "I'm not real clear on all the ins and outs myself. Maybe I'll just let Crystal tell you."

"Huh?"

"She's going to be here late tomorrow, along with Al and her mom and some other friends. They're a pretty good crew, and they do have a few stories to tell. I'll tell 'em you're OK. We should all be having some good times."

* * *

The smell of salt air struck Randy hard, and the roar of the surf beckoned. It was almost summer again, and although a lot of winter would remain once he got back home, the break from it would be very welcome.

It was good to be back here again, he thought. It had been too long. Some of the happiest, most carefree periods of his life had been spent here, on this beach, just hanging out with friends. He and Nicole had managed to make it here for a couple days last spring break, but the surf had been flat. As it turned out it hadn't mattered, it had been good just to hang out and let the sun bake some winter out of him. It was a final breather before the summer had turned busier than he wanted. Oh, it would have been possible to head over to Disney World or something, but he and Nicole had been there and done that. Just hanging out with Buddha and Giselle was all the break he'd needed.

The last few days had been busy; it turned out that he'd had to spend several hours working with Myleigh, Shovelhead, Jennifer, and Blake on the new cut for Travel Section. He'd played it with Myleigh, clear back at NMU, but didn't remember it well, and that had been before he played bass guitar, so the part was different. They'd changed it around a lot, anyway. Outer Wave, though, had been a tough one. It wasn't simple and had an elaborate backup; that had taken more time. But all in all the recording had gone well and Myleigh had seemed happy. There was none of the morose guilt that she'd displayed that first night in his living room, when she'd told Nicole and him about Ron or non-Ron, however you put it.

They'd had a good Christmas at his folks. Back when she'd been in college, Myleigh had always had Christmas with Crystal and her family, but after that, when things went sour at Crystal's, his own family had sort of adopted her. She'd missed a couple Christmases since, like last year when she'd been with the Flagstaff bunch, but it had been good to have her back. They were good times, and warm times; it was good that they were still friends.

Early this morning, they'd driven down to Camden in Myleigh's rental car and caught a jet for Orlando. It had been something of a miracle that he and Nicole had been able to get seats on the same plane, and though they weren't seated with Myleigh, it had worked out all right. In a couple of hours they'd left the dismal north country winter behind and walked out of the shuttle bus at the rental car place into decent weather. It was a little hard to handle that much change so quickly. The locals would have considered this a cool day, Randy knew, but since he and Nicole were used to the north country winter by now, it seemed a touch on the warm side.

The waves were smokin' pretty good out there, but it wouldn't do to just show up and not catch up with Buddha and Giselle a little first. Still, he could look out across the highway as he drove up to the shop and see several surfers out there working them. Crystal and the Flagstaff bunch weren't expected till late; Buddha had told them when he'd called a couple days before to let them know he, Nicole and Myleigh were coming, and there'd be more catching up to do when they arrived.

He braked the rental car to a stop in front of the shop and they all got out. They could see Buddha sitting out under the awning; Giselle was nowhere to be seen. As Myleigh got out of the car, they could see Buddha's face brighten. "Surfer Girl! Randy! Nicole!" he said happily. "Long time, no see!"

"Buddha!" he heard Myleigh say gleefully as she hurried over to him, "We have arrived upon these salubrious shores from the lands of quasi-eternal frosts, and it is once again a joy to cast my eyes upon your shorn and shining pate!"

"Surfer Girl, Surfer Girl," Buddha smiled as he wrapped his thick arms around her and squeezed her tight, picking her up and swinging her around in glee. "Your smiling countenance has brought daylight into the darkness of my soul. I have so missed your gleaming face for many months, now."

"Oh, my God!" Randy heard a voice off to one side say. He turned, to see a wet-suited surfer standing at the Coke machine, jaw hanging agape. "I remember now!"

"Trey!" Myleigh said, visibly startled at seeing him. "What are you doing here?"

"I never made the connection," he said in amazement, ignoring her question. "It was you!"

"Me? What?" Myleigh said, clearly confused.

"I was down here from Stewart, must have been five years ago, along in March. One of the guys I was with was looking at a shortboard, and you and . . ." he glanced at Randy. "You've got to be Randy, right?" He turned back to Myleigh. "You and Randy and some other girl came in, and you started talking with Buddha in the damnedest collection of fifty-cent words I've ever heard. You were talking about some book you were giving him, I think, if we made it out right. We about . . . we were, uh, flabbergasted."

Randy remembered the scene well; it was the first time he'd met Buddha. "Yeah, you and he were buying some purple shortboard. You two know each other?"

"Yes," Myleigh smiled warmly. "Trey was in one of my classes last semester. He was the student who was nice enough to handle the lights and sound at my concert."

"Dr. Harris, I never expected to see you here," the wet-suited surfer said, still visibly amazed.

"I certainly never expected to see you, either," she said, composure coming back, now. "I didn't know you were a surfer."

"I did it pretty heavily a few years ago, and then when I didn't have anything else to do over Christmas, I decided to come back down here and get back in practice."

"My," she grinned. "I knew there was more to you than met the eye. Don't just stand there with your jaw agape, lest you swallow a fly. Come join us that I might make introductions."

"Uh, Dr. Harris, I really shouldn't intrude, but it was just such a shock to see you here."

"Nonsense, dear lad. Here on these warm and salubrious shores we are but fellow surfers together," she grinned. "I admit to some surprise myself, but it's a pleasant surprise. Please come join us."

Trey looked uncertain. "Well, all right, Dr. Harris, if you insist."

"Trey," Myleigh grinned with just a touch of feigned annoyance as Trey walked the few steps over to them. "I thought we had an agreement. We are far from Marienthal, and I distinctly remember asking you to refrain from using my honorific off campus. After all, do you call our hairless host 'Dr. Varsos?'"

"Damn it, Surfer Girl." Buddha said, but with a grin. "You know I don't like that."

Randy glanced at Trey, who again had a serious problem with his jaw hanging open. "Buddha?" Trey finally managed. "You?"

"For God's sakes don't tell anyone," Buddha snorted. "I got a reputation to maintain. That's what I was doing at Santa Barbara, getting my lit doctorate and surfing. You couldn't buy a job in the field back then so I just stayed surfing. Our little friend here with the big words, well, she went straight."

"We have had many hours of enjoyable conversations in the field of literature," Myleigh said. "Buddha was instrumental in my getting accepted to the accelerated doctoral program at Athens, and I owe a great deal to him for that."

Randy laughed. "Trey, from what I remember of the time you were talking about, you only caught them warming up. One of the fun things we enjoy here is watching Myleigh and Buddha trying to outtalk each other. They can go on for hours."

"I don't believe it," he said.

"Oh, it's true," Randy grinned. "You hang around, you'll see."

"I must confess, Randy is correct in his assumption about my conversations with our dear Surfer Girl," Buddha said, sounding rather dry -- well, sounding more like Myleigh. "I particularly enjoy the chance to communicate with her, for I very rarely have the opportunity to declaim in that argot. We have indeed had some memorable discussions."

"Trey, you must not have picked up on it," Randy grinned. "Buddha always tries to make his guests comfortable, so he varies his accents and the way he uses the language to match them. I don't think he does it consciously, it's just habit." He switched to a strange accent, sounding sort of Scandinavian. "Dat's right, ey, Buddha? Ya kin do Yooper like ya can do suddern, or anytin' else, yaaah?"

"Yaah, you betcha," Buddha smiled. "Dey ain't a lot of people round here dat do Yooper, eh? But Randy, he comes down 'ere, I can practice, yaah."

"Aww, dat ain't nuttin," Myleigh added in the same accent. "I learnt how ta speak Yooper at Nordern Mitchigan, when I was dere, yaah. Dat's what we mean when Randy and I say we got a qualidy educatin' at Nordern."

"Knock it off wid da Yooper, ey?" Nicole snorted. "I kin handle da fifty-cent words, but dat Yooper, it gets ta me, yaah." She dropped the accent. "Relax, Trey. We aren't a bunch of dumb Finnish pulp cutters, either. While these people are interested in showing off how cute they are, I guess I'm going to have to introduce myself. I'm Nicole -- Randy's wife. Obviously, you know Buddha and Myleigh, but I'm just a little curious how you recognized Randy."

"Saw him on Great Performances," Trey replied. "And then, I saw a picture of him and Dr. . . . uh, Myleigh and that other girl who was with him that time, years ago."

"Crystal," Myleigh said. "Buddha, are they still going to be here tonight?"

"Far as I know. About dark I guess, if their plane doesn't get delayed. They said not to hold dinner; they'll get something on the way."

"Excellent," Myleigh said. "I have not seen her in far too long. And Buddha, I must inquire how the surf has been."

"Pretty good," he said. "It was smooth as a baby's butt a few days ago, but it's smokin' now. Should hold out pretty good for another day or so. Why don't you guys get out and get in it while there's still some light? We can sit around and play with Trey's mind over dinner, along in the evening when it's getting too dark to surf."

"A capital idea," Myleigh grinned. "Both the surfing, and playing with Trey's mind. But Buddha, we must find a few moments to chat, for I have considerable news for you."

"Buddha, I don't want to intrude," Trey protested.

Buddha smiled and replied, "As Surfer Girl said, 'Nonsense, dear lad!' We may need you and Nicole to keep some degree of sanity upon the proceedings. Besides, the others should be present by then and I should feel most ashamed to have our guest feel left out."

* * *

It took a while to get organized. Under the circumstances, Randy figured that it probably would be best to get their camp set up before they hit the waves. If the Flagstaff bunch arrived on schedule, it could be long after dark before anyone settled down enough to set up tents and do things like that. Trey offered to help, and camp setup went quickly. Since they had flown down, Randy and Nicole and Myleigh were going to be using some of Buddha's rental surfboards, so it took a while to put on swimsuits and wet suits and get boards picked out, but soon they were out in the waves.

Randy hadn't been surfing since up on Lake Superior the previous summer, when he and Myleigh and Nicole had taken a trip up there for old time's sake, and the waves hadn't been as good as these. He soon saw that Trey was a pretty good surfer. He wasn't going to set the world on fire as a hotdog, but he had a good feel for the shoulder. Interesting guy, he thought. Of course, under the circumstances, the poor guy had been thoroughly buffaloed at the appearance of Myleigh and the revelations about Buddha, but he could understand that. Buddha had done a number on his own mind the first time he'd met him too, but he'd proven to be a good and loyal friend.

Dinner was interesting. Giselle had found some thick swordfish steaks. She grilled them out back and served them with an interesting white sauce. She was a terrific cook, and Randy once again had a fantasy about getting her together with Blake. That would be a meal to remember.

Myleigh did have plenty of news for Buddha and Giselle, too. They'd been tipped about Great Performances; Randy found out that several people besides him had called to tip them off. But, of course, they hadn't heard about the concert at Marienthal -- Trey had a couple of interesting stories about that -- but along with Buddha and Giselle, Trey hadn't heard about Harp Strings. "Surfer Girl, that's wonderful news," Buddha grinned.

Randy could see Trey smile at the news. "So, Myleigh, you decided to take the chance, then?" he asked.

"Not entirely, Trey," she replied. "But it's a step in the direction of being able to make up my mind. Jennifer and Blake were most persuasive, and since I felt the risk on my part is limited, it is worth the effort of investigating further."

"The grass is still looking pretty green, then, I take it?"

"At the moment, yes," she replied. "Of course, it's a Rikki-Tikki-Tavi problem; there's no finding out until I run and go see. As we discussed, it may take years."

"Well, as I told you," he replied. "I'll be interested in seeing how it all comes out."

She smiled at him mysteriously. "Trey, would you believe me if I said I was no less interested?"

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