By the light of the moon

seemed almost supernatural.
    This, too, was as it should be.
    At the bottom of the gangway, in the slip, rested a
forty-five-foot cabin cruiser from an age when pleasure boats were
not made from plastic, aluminum, and fiberglass. White painted
wood, decks and trim of polished mahogany, and bracelets and
necklaces of sparkling brass brightwork made this not merely a
cabin cruiser, but a vessel that had sailed out of a dream.
    When all were aboard, the candles on the dock were extinguished
one by one and allowed to drop to the planking.
    Parish piloted the boat out of the slip and into the lake. The
waters would have been everywhere as black as aniline if the
generous moon had not scattered silver coins across the wavelets.
He dropped anchor far from shore, relying on the amber-paned ship's
lanterns to warn other night travelers of their presence.
    The spacious afterdeck of the cruiser allowed a table for four
and sufficient room for Ling to serve a candlelight dinner. The
wild-mushroom ravioli, as an appetizer, were nicely square. On the
entree plate, the zucchini had been cubed before it had been
sauteed; the serving of potato-onion casserole was presented in a
neat block; and the medallions of veal had been thoughtfully
trimmed into squares not merely for Shepherd, but for everyone, so
as to ensure that the young Mr. O'Conner would not feel that he had
in any way been set apart from his companions.
    Nevertheless, Ling stood ready in the galley to make a
grilled-cheese sandwich if necessary.
    Every course proved to be delicious. The accompanying Cabernet
Sauvignon rated exceptional by any standard. The cold glass of Coke
without ice cubes satisfied as fully as could any cold glass of
Coke in the world. And the conversation, of course, was
fascinating, even though Shepherd limited most of his contributions
to one or two words and made excessive use of the adjective tasty .
    'You will have a wing of the house for your own,' Parish said.
'And in time, if you'd like, a second house can be constructed on
the property.'
    'You're very generous,' Jilly said.
    'Nonsense. My radio program is a money cow. I've never married,
have no children. Of course, you'll have to live here secretly.
Your whereabouts must never be known. The media, authorities, the
whole of humanity would hound you ceaselessly, more and more as the
years go by. I may have to make a couple staff changes to ensure
our secret will be kept, but Ling has brothers, sisters.'
    'Funny,' Dylan said, 'how we sit here planning, on the same page
from the start. We all know what must be done and how.'
    'We're of different generations,' Jilly said, 'but we're all
children of the same culture. We're marinated in the same
mythology.'
    'Exactly,' said Parish. 'Now, next week I'll change my will to
make all of you my heirs, though this will have to be done through
Swiss attorneys and a chain of offshore accounts, with ID numbers
rather than names. Your names are already too well known
nationally, and in the years ahead, you'll be ever more famous.
Should anything happen to me, or to any of us, the others can go on
without tax or financial problems.'
    Putting down his knife and fork, clearly moved by their host's
easy generosity, Dylan said, 'There aren't words to properly thank
you for all this. You are... an exceptional man.'
    'No more gratitude,' Parish said firmly. 'I don't need to hear
it. You are exceptional, as well, Dylan. And you, Jilly. And you,
Shepherd.'
    'Tasty.'
    'We are all different from other men and women, and we'll never
be like them again. Not better, but very different. There is
nowhere in the world where any of us truly belongs anymore except
here, with one another. Our task from this day forward – a
task at which we must not fail – is to make absolutely
certain that we use our difference to make a
difference.'
    'We must go wherever we're needed,' Dylan agreed. 'No gloves, no
hesitation, no fear.'
    'Plenty of fear,' Jilly disagreed. 'But we can't ever surrender
to it.'
    'That's better said,' Dylan complimented her.
    As Ling poured more Cabernet, an airliner crossed Tahoe at high
altitude, perhaps en route to the airport in Reno. If night on the
lake had not been silent except for the knocking of the moon coins
against the hull, they might have failed to hear the faint
exhalation of the jet engines. Looking up, Jilly saw a tiny winged
silhouette cross the lunar face.
    'One thing I'm grateful for,' said Parish. 'We won't have all
the trouble of