“She’s harmless,” Olivia said. “Aunt Frannie, please remember you have a boyfriend.”
“Of course I do,” Frannie said. “But a woman can still look. It’s a free country. The Constitution protects my right to ogle.”
Sylvie opened the door wider. “You know we’re not going to let you two just grab cupcakes and leave. Come on in.” She latched onto my hand and pulled me through the foyer. “Dark as sin in this house. Let me turn on some lights in my parlor.”
At the click of a switch, light flooded the entire living room.
Revealing a houseful of familiar faces.
“Happy birthday!” they yelled in chorus.
Party horns blew off-key, confetti rained from the ceiling, balloons floated like clouds above us.
Miller, Hattie, Rosie, and many of the other folks I’d already met tonight. The remaining members of the book club. Paolo from the clothing store. A guy Olivia called Elton, who’d brought his dress-wearing poodle. John, the daytime security guard at the golf course. The two ladies who ran my favorite coffee shop downtown. Marvella Biggs, the woman who hit her golf balls into my backyard every Tuesday and Thursday morning.
The house was packed from seam to seam.
“Happy birthday, Lachlan.” Olivia curved her arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. “Do you love the surprise?”
I looked down at my wife. “I think I do.”
Music began to play, something soft and mellow, while people milled about. One by one, the visitors approached, offering me birthday greetings and the occasional comment on my attire.
“Are you hungry?” Olivia asked sometime later.
“Starved.” My five Twix, four Reese’s, and two Hershey’s Kisses hadn’t provided substantial sustenance. “But I’m afraid if I eat anything, I might bust out of these pants.”
“That would make Frannie’s year.” Olivia jerked her chin toward the dining room. “Let’s get in line.”
She made a path through the crowd, and we only paused long enough to say hello to a few late arrivals. Olivia was a woman on a mission, and when it came to securing food, I couldn’t say I minded.
“I had Giancarlo’s Café cater.” She handed me a plate. “I hope you like Italian.”
Italian was my favorite, and I was certain Olivia knew that. “Sounds good to me.”
Her phone must have vibrated from somewhere on her body, because she lifted the hem of her dress, then reached into her high-heeled boot. “Shoot, it’s Celeste.”
Celeste really needed to get a life. “Go ahead and take it.”
Olivia stared at the screen while I grabbed a piece of hot, buttery bread. “No,” she said. “Not tonight. This is the birthday boy’s first Halloween.” After a resolute nod, Olivia dropped the phone back into her boot and grabbed a plate. “Let’s eat.”
I spent the next hour mingling with the guests and going back to the buffet table for seconds and thirds. Olivia and I had gotten separated three conversations ago, and I was more than content to watch her across the room. She could work a crowd better than anyone I’d ever known, and she sure knew how to throw a party.
Olivia now stood next to the fireplace talking to her sisters, both dressed as flappers. I’d spent the last decade obsessively studying people, and the good stuff was always in the nuance and details. Like an artist, I’d memorized every inch of Olivia’s face and knew almost every mannerism. I loved how she often clapped her hands together twice when she laughed. I could get lost in the way she twirled her hair around one finger when she drifted in thought. I knew the difference in her genuine smile and the one she composed just to be polite.
And tonight, when Olivia’s eyes scanned the room to find me, I nearly wept like a baby right in front of the remaining green beans and lasagna. (And yes, I was back for a fourth bite.) She’d done all this for me. On my birthday. As if it mattered. As ifImattered.
“You gonna take those last two pieces of bread or continue to hover over them in thoughtful consideration?”
I looked up to find Sylvie standing beside me. “I was just wishing for someone to share this other piece with.”
She plucked the bread from my hand and took a buttery bite. “You’re a pretty good liar. You know that, Lachlan Hayes?”
I thought of the lie that was my marriage. “I’ve suspected.”
“You’re over here looking a little forlorn. What’s that about?”
“Just sad the Alfredo’s all gone.”
