Logan’s feelings for Diana deepened one night at a large party at Rita’s spread, a farm outside of Arcata.
“Lovely Rita, meter maid, where would we be without you?” Zeff sang to Rita in the flickering light of the fire behind her house. Rita’s lawn meandered into a mowed field that sloped toward the ocean in one direction and back toward wooded hills in the other. More than a hundred people clustered in small groups around several fires, sparks drifting upward between. Guitar chords and flute notes floated up with woodsmoke and w**d, as people drifted and danced between clusters.
“Di, this is Rita,” said Zeff, “an organizer par excellence who has been fighting the corporate dragon for the last three decades.”
Rita smiled and rolled her eyes. “Except lately.” Her gray hair flowed like he
