“This is ridiculous.”
“What do they drive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Dad, come on.”
Daniel’s voice sharpened.
“Between the pie and that car, you’re making people look over here.”
Walter stared.
Nobody was looking over there.
The guests had barely begun arriving.
A catering worker carried glasses.
The florist adjusted flowers.
No one cared about Walter’s Buick.
Except his family.
That realization hurt more than the insult itself.
Walter handed Daniel the car keys.
“Move it wherever you want.”
Daniel blinked.
“You don’t have to—”
“You seem to know where it belongs.”
Walter turned and walked toward the garden.
He heard Melissa whisper something behind him.
Then Daniel’s voice.
Low.
Defensive.
Walter kept walking.
He found a chair beneath a sycamore tree near the edge of the lawn.
Sat.
Watched people arrive.
Ethan Marshall’s parents came at two-fifteen.
Richard and Caroline Marshall.
Walter recognized them from one previous dinner.
Richard owned a regional construction company.
Caroline sat on the board of two charities and seemed perpetually embarrassed by the amount of attention people gave her clothes.
They were wealthy.
That much was obvious.
They were also friendly.
Richard shook Walter’s hand with both of his.
“Good to see you again.”
“You too.”
Caroline touched Walter’s shoulder.
“How are you holding up?”
The question surprised him.
She knew about Evelyn.
“I’m all right.”
“That’s never the whole answer.”
She said gently.
Walter smiled.
“No.”
“I suppose it isn’t.”
They talked for several minutes.
Richard mentioned an old pickup he was restoring.
Caroline asked about Lily as a child.
Nobody asked where Walter’s car was parked.
Nobody inspected his jacket.
Nobody laughed at his shoes.
The people Daniel and Melissa seemed desperate to impress did not appear to care about the things embarrassing them.
That made the whole situation feel sadder.
By two-thirty, the garden was full.
Lily arrived with Ethan through the front entrance.
Applause broke out.
Walter stood automatically.
His granddaughter looked beautiful.
Not in the dramatic way Melissa had clearly wanted.
In the familiar way Walter loved.
Same bright eyes she had as a little girl.
Same habit of pushing one loose strand of hair behind her ear when overwhelmed.
She wore a simple ivory dress with tiny blue flowers.
Ethan wore a light gray suit and looked nervous enough to be likable.
Lily hugged her parents first.
Then Ethan’s.
Then began moving through guests.
Walter stayed near the edge.
He expected she would reach him eventually.
He was in no hurry.
This was her day.
That was the whole point.
Across the garden, Walter saw Daniel standing near a cocktail table.
His son laughed at something Richard Marshall said.
For one second, Walter remembered Daniel at eight years old.
Skinny knees.
Missing front tooth.
Sitting on the Buick’s predecessor while Walter changed the oil.
Daniel had once followed him everywhere.
Asked questions constantly.
Wanted to be exactly like him.
Children grow.
Then adults grow further.
Sometimes too far to recognize the road back.
Walter sat again.
A woman he vaguely knew from Lily’s office took the chair beside him.
“You’re Lily’s grandfather?”
“Yes.”
“She talks about you.”
Walter smiled.
“Only the flattering parts, I hope.”
“She said you taught her to drive.”
“That was a mistake.”
The woman laughed.
Walter continued:
“She nearly killed a mailbox.”
“I did not!”
Lily’s voice came from behind him.
Walter turned.
There she was.
She wrapped both arms around him.
“Grandpa.”
Walter hugged her tightly.
For the first time that afternoon, he relaxed.
“Congratulations, sweetheart.”