On the day of the shower, Dillard showed up at Carolyn’s brownstone a little early, and out of breath after climbing the two flights to her apartment. She greeted Dillard with a hug. “I know, quite a trek, isn’t it? What can I get you to drink?” She took his flute and coat and led him to a couch upholstered in a pale yellow chintz. “Water would be fine.” Carolyn called for someone to bring out a glass of water and pointed at the couch. “Please, get comfortable. That’s what this old thing is for.”
Dillard studied her. She looked the same: tall, slim, long straight black hair. Her only concession to age was lip gloss tinged with coral and a bit of blush. Instead of her usual head-to-toe black, she was dressed in a creamy beige boatneck sweater, Siena-colored suede pants, and a pair of beige pumps. “You look very glamorous,” he said.
She laughed. “Calvin, head to toe. I don’t work at a fashion magazine for nothing. And you, you look pretty good for an old man.”
“Old.” Dillard closed his eyes. “You’re not kidding, I feel like I’m a hundred and three.”
She patted his arm. “Relax, no one will be here for another half hour. I’m going in the kitchen to help with the appetizers.”
Dillard sat back on the couch, taking in the club chairs, the floor-to-ceiling silk curtains, and the angel-white carpeting. The room smelled of fresh cypress that seemed to be coming from the small green candles flickering on the mantelpiece. He must have nodded off because when he awoke, Alice, Carl, and Earle Jr. were whispering at the opposite end of the room. Dillard sat up and said, “It’s okay, I had a little catnap.” He got to his feet and went over to Earle. “Hey, buddy.” He held up his hand for a high-five and waited for Earle to slap his. Instead, Earle backed away and stood between his parents.
“He’s having a shy day,” said Alice.
“I get it,” said Dillard. Other guests started arriving, friends of Alice’s whom Dillard had never met. Carolyn had made a mixtape and turned it up loud, which made it imperative to talk over “Baby Love” and “Having My Baby.”
The room was filling with familiar faces. Aloysius, his hair as white as the carpeting, wearing big black glasses that magnified his already bulging eyes, and Cora, still a beauty, greeted Dillard with warm hugs. He’d last seen them two Christmases ago, when they’d come to Alice’s for dinner. While they’d all promised to stay in touch, somehow none of them had. Dillard spotted Emilia Mae standing by the fireplace with a large man. He told Aloysius he’d talk to him later and went over to the two of them.
“Hi,” he said.
She smiled and said, “Hi.”
“You look nice,” he said.
“So do you,” she said. They came together in a hug. Emilia Mae had gotten so used to Dave Turner’s massive arms that Dillard felt small by comparison; she could carry him if she had to. She stepped back and looked him up and down. “You’ve lost weight.”
“It must be my fine home cooking.”
“No, really, you seem thinner. Are you working out a lot?”
“Not really. I walk to and from the Alvin Theater every day. Must be about five miles. Otherwise, aside from swimming whenever I can, I haven’t done much.”
Emilia Mae stroked his cheek. “Well, eat more, walk less, or something like that. Don’t lose any more weight.”
She introduced him to Dave. His hand was still swathed in Dave’s when Dillard felt a chill crawl up the back of his neck. He turned around in time to see Geraldine and Alberto enter the room.
This was the moment he’d dreaded. He hadn’t seen them since the divorce and hadn’t heard a word from them. Geraldine made a point of making eye contact with him as they each took a quiche canape from the waiter’s tray.
“Good to see you again, Dillard. You’re looking nice and trim.”
“Thank you,” said Dillard. “So are you.”
Just then, Carolyn turned down the music and clinked her champagne glass with a knife. “You all are so kind to come and celebrate my friend Alice and the soon-to-be addition to the family. As most of you know, Alice is a music teacher. You may not know that she has a gorgeous voice. Another thing you may not know is that when we were at school in Boston, she was the lead vocalist of a group called Electric Fruit.”
People clapped and laughed.
“Hey, it was the sixties, alright?” said Carolyn. “Anyway, Alice credits her stepfather, Dillard Fox, with nurturing her musically, and as a special request, she has asked if he would play the flute while she sang one of their favorite songs. So, Dillard, may we have the pleasure?”
The word stepfather hit Dillard like a stray bullet. He’d never heard himself described that way. Alice came over and whispered, “It’s a sappy one, ‘Someone to Watch over Me.’ Are you up for it?”
“Yup, I can pull it together.”
Carolyn had set up two facing chairs in front of the fireplace. While Dillard cleaned and pieced his flute together, Alice told the group, “This was the first song my grandpa, Earle Sr., ever taught me. Since then, I’ve sung it with Dillard dozens of times.”
The crowd settled into chairs and the sofa, and some sat on the floor. Dillard played the four-bar introduction, and then Alice stood up and started to sing. Dillard hadn’t heard Alice sing in many years. Her voice had gotten richer with age. The words came effortlessly, as if this was her story. Dillard tried to hold his concentration to the music and Alice, but his eyes rested on Emilia Mae. She was jiggling her leg the way she did when she was nervous. She was well dressed. Wearing pearls. Maybe the shoe guy gave her those. She’d aged. He’d aged. What did he expect? He smiled at her. She smiled back.
When the song ended, the group cheered and demanded an encore. “Just one more,” Dillard whispered to Alice. They decided on “Fly Me to the Moon.” When they finished, Dillard kissed Alice on the cheek and whispered, “I’ll see you later.” Carolyn stood up, clapped her hands, and shouted “Bravo!”
Dillard started to sneak out when Alice started opening presents, but stopped in his tracks as Alice held up the gift she’d received from the Kleppers: an antique yellow cashmere baby blanket with the letter L monogrammed onto it.