“Smooth,” he said.
“It’s not bad, not the finest I own,” Emerson said. “Noah, why don’t you join me outside.”
The double doors to the sun room were open, allowing the falling shadows to snake inside the Hatcher home. Curtains pulled aside wavered in the light wind; the temperature had dropped but not enough to prevent them taking advantage of the deck outside the sun room. Emerson hadn’t waited for an answer, because it hadn’t been offered as a choice. Soon the two men had stepped onto the patio that overlooked the ocean from high atop the bluff. Emerson brought him to the railing, thick wood embedded in the ground providing a secure barrier from the safety of up here and the danger down below. The large boulders at the shore’s edge were continually assaulted by relentless waves. It had
