Energized, she spent nearly an hour at the florist. Maybe the long cold winter played in, but she wanted to fill the house with flowers for his party.

She shivered her way to the bakery, then tried to keep her mood up as she entered the post office.

“Maybe he caught pneumonia, or frostbite, and we’ll skip this year.”

But there it was, mixed in with pink and yellow and creamy white envelopes, that single cheap white with the block printing.

She wouldn’t read it yet, not yet. She wouldn’t let it spoil the party mood she’d worked up.

Instead, she stuffed it in her bag with the others, and crossed the street to Rizzo’s.

Huddling with Jan in the tiny office perked her back up again.

“I love the idea of having the big buffet in the dining room, and these stations spread around, great room, main living room, the library. I’m thinking three bars. One nonalcoholic, one wine and beer, one mixed drinks. Then a coffee station.”

“You know we can get servers, bartenders from right here.”

“Nope. Nobody from Rizzo’s works that night. It’s their party, too. Teesha’s helping me line all that up.”

“How’s that baby?”

“Fat and happy, and Phineas is still in love with him. Maya’s getting closer. She looks great.”

“Fat and happy,” Jan repeated. “Collin’s a little dubious about having a baby sister. Phineas got a brother, and he insists Maya needs to change the baby to a boy.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“It reminds me of Raylan. He just didn’t get why he had to have a sister. But then he was in love until she started getting into his things. There were times, I tell you, I thought they’d be enemies for life. Then, like a switch flipped, they were friends.”

She pulled off her cheaters, let them dangle by the chain around her neck. “Sometimes I miss the wars, those little angry faces. But I see them, now and again, in Bradley and Mariah.”

“Your kids make great kids.”

“Yes, they do. So, are we final here, or are you going to let Dom put his oar in?”

“No oar for him. I’ve waited to tell him about the party until we finalized, so I’ll tell him when I get home. He’ll pretend it’s all too much trouble, and he’ll love every minute of it. I’ve got to get going. I’ve been longer than I planned. Thanks for this, Jan.”

“I can honestly say it’s nothing but a pleasure. I owe a lot of the life I lead to Dom, and Sophia. Ninety-five? It’s a milestone. I can’t wait to celebrate with him.”

“He’s planning on coming in tomorrow, so expect him to try to squeeze the menu out of you.”

As they rose, Jan mimed zipping her lips.

A good productive day, she thought as she drove home again. A solid morning of things done. If her grandfather hadn’t put anything together for lunch—and she suspected he’d fallen asleep over his book—she’d throw something together for both of them.

Then tell him all about his birthday party.

“It’s what we call fait accompli, Sadie.”

When she parked, she reached for the mail bag, remembered.

“Not thinking about it yet. No, no, no. Screw that asshole, right?”

She and Sadie went in the house. She tapped the alarm pad, hung up her outdoor gear. “I’m back!” She put the mailbag on the table by the staircase to deal with later, and kept going to the library.

“As I suspected,” she murmured when she saw Dom, book in his lap, head bowed over it, with his glasses down his nose and his eyes closed.

She started to back out. She’d make him some lunch, then …

But Sadie went to him, laid her head in his lap, and began to whine.

“Ssh! Let’s let him sleep.” Hurrying over, she made to tug the dog away, and her hand brushed Dom’s.

“You’re cold. You’re too cold.” When she started to pull the throw up, his arm fell limply off the arm of the chair.

Just dangled.

“You wake up now,” she demanded. “No, no, no, no. Popi, wake up.” She took his face in her hands to lift it—cold, so cold. “Please, please, wake up. Please, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone.”

But he had, she knew he had, and everything in her began to shake.

When the big bronze knocker banged against the front door, she jolted, ran. “Stay with him,” she ordered Sadie. “Stay with him.”

She ran to the door—someone would help—wrenched it open.

Raylan’s greeting smile flashed away. He stepped in, gripped her shoulders. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Popi. It’s Popi. The library.”

She sprinted back, dropped to her knees by the chair.

“I can’t wake him up. He won’t wake up.”

Though he could see Dom was gone, Raylan touched two fingers to his pulse, felt nothing but cool skin.

“He has to wake up. Can you wake him up? Please, wake him up.”

Saying nothing, Raylan lifted her, pulled her in. When she clutched around him, dissolved in wailing sobs, he just held her.

When she spoke, her voice jumped and hitched. “I left him. I shouldn’t have left him. I was out too long. I should have—”

“Stop now.” He understood blind, tearing grief, so kept everything gentle, his voice, his hands. “He’s sitting in front of the fire, at home, with a book, with his wife’s photo as his bookmark. He’s got a tray of tea, and cookies, and fruit I bet you brought him. He’s got a throw tucked around him. I bet you did that, too.”

“But—”

“Adrian.” He drew her back a little. “He slipped away, quietly, looking at his wife’s picture. He lived a long, beautiful, generous life, and fate gave him a loving end to it.”

“I don’t know what to do.” She pressed her face to his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s all right. I’m going to help you. Let’s go out here.”

“I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“But he’s not alone. He’s with Sophia.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Instead of a birthday party, Adrian planned a memorial. Instead of struggling against the grief, she used it to allow herself to make decisions based not on practicalities or logic, but on pure emotion.

At every turn, she asked herself what Dom would have wanted, what would have mattered to him.

And her heart knew the answers.

In the end, she held an open memorial in the town park on what would have been his ninety-fifth birthday.

The creek rushed under the arching stone bridges, quickened by snowmelt. Sun streamed through the bare branches of trees, glinted on patches of snow that tried to hide in shadows.

Monroe and two of his musical friends formed a trio in the bandstand to play sweet and soft while people gathered.

Despite the brisk March winds, hundreds came and dozens took a turn at the podium to share a memory or a moment.

In the end, she took her place there, looked out on the sea of faces.

“I want to thank all of you for coming, for being a part of paying tribute to a truly beautiful life. I know many of you have traveled a long way to be here, and that shows, so clearly, how many lives Dom Rizzo touched.