The Greenfields County Club dining room looked just as I remembered it twenty years ago. A few improvements and changes, but nothing radical.

“John! Over here.” Don Wilson was waving to me from a small table by the window, overlooking the first green.

We exchanged the usual greetings and got settled in.

“So, John, what brings you back home after such a long time?”

“Nothing in particular. The wife and I just decided that we were ready for a change after both kids started college. We weren’t old enough for Florida, so we thought we would spend a few years at home. We are just renting for the time being.”

“Are you working?”

“Yeah! I am still with Sanders Chemical. I was able to swing a transfer back. It is almost like I never left. Sharon got a secretarial job with a local company. Yourself?”

“Still selling Chevy’s. I can’t imagine doing anything else. For some reason, I feel like I found my calling. When you think about trading give me a call.”

“Hey! No fair. You are not allowed to do business at lunch.”