The bright hot light of late afternoon casts shadows across our room in this beautiful craftsman home of 100 years in this remote seaside town. Your glasses in the corner where you left them before you started our dinner. That salad. Your own concoction of vinegars and oils, sunflower seeds and cashews, grapes and goat cheese, and a mix of spring lettuce to give it shape. Tonight, he adds grilled chicken, which I know only from the smells that are rising from the deck, like the dinner bell calling me to supper.