‘Yeah,’ Jilly agreed. ‘And let’s be as sneaky-clever as Horace Bloogernud was in his day. Let’s use moonlight in the name.’
‘The Moonlight Gang,’ Dylan suggested. ‘Has the right tabloid ring, doesn’t it?’
‘I don’t like the gang part,’ said Parish. ‘Too many negative connotations with that one.’
‘The Moonlight… something,’ Jilly brooded.
Although half his cake remained on his plate, Shepherd put down his fork. Staring at this treat postponed, he said, ‘Squad, crew, band, ring, society—’
‘Here we go,’ Dylan said.
‘—guild, alliance, association, team, coalition, clan, outfit, league, club—’
‘The Moonlight Club.’ Jilly played the three words across her tongue. ‘The Moonlight Club. That’s not half bad.’
‘—fellowship, company, troop, posse, family—’
‘I assume this will take a while,’ said Parish, and indicated to Ling that the time had come to remove three of the four dessert plates and to uncork another bottle of wine.
‘—travelers, voyagers, riders—’
Listening with one ear to the good Shepherd’s cascade of words, Jilly dared to think about their future, about destiny and free will, about mythology and truth, about dependency and responsibility, about the certainty of death and the desperate need to live with purpose, about love and duty, and hope.
The sky is deep. The stars lie far away. The moon is nearer than Mars but still distant. The lake is a lustrous black, enlivened by the mercurial light of the parish lantern. The vessel rocks gently at anchor. The Moonlight Club, or whatever it eventually will be called, conducts its first meeting with serious intent, laughter, and cake, beginning what all its members hope will be a long exploration of the round and round of all that is.