Eight Hundred Grapes

“You decided that the way to go was to be a happy family?”

“I did.”

“I didn’t think you were going to do that.” He nodded approvingly. “That’s brave.”

Jacob looked back at Ben and Michelle, and I followed his eyes as Ben hugged their daughter, Michelle standing close by, smiling at him. They looked like they belonged together.

Jacob leaned in toward me. He leaned in closer, pushing my hair out of the way, holding the back of my neck.

“What if I told you that Michelle Carter has nothing on you?” Jacob whispered.

I leaned in closer to him. “I’d say you’re also the guy who predicted a rainstorm.”

When I arrived at the corner table, they were laughing. Maddie was working ferociously on her coloring book—on a large drawing of a purple Cookie Monster—Ben and Michelle watching her, joining in.

Ben looked up and saw me before Michelle or Maddie did. Then he made room for me beside himself.

“Pull up a crayon!” Ben said.

“No!” Michelle patted the seat beside her. “Come sit here.”

I forced a smile. “Great.”

Michelle forced a smile too. I sat down beside her.

“Benjamin,” Michelle said. “Shoo. Give us some girl time.”

Ben looked at me nervously, but I nodded that it was okay. He smiled, patted Maddie’s head. “I’m going to get this one a juice. Would you like something?”

I wasn’t sure whom he was addressing, but Michelle answered. “The usual . . .”

We watched Ben walk away, holding Maddie, making her laugh as they moved through the party. Ben held her high over his shoulders so she could see every person, every pretty dress.

“My daughter loves him a lot, doesn’t she?” Michelle said, looking sad, perhaps that she had kept them apart for so long when they so obviously were meant to be together. “Hard not t

o, I guess.”

I wasn’t sure how to react to that, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t wait for a reaction.

Michelle looked away again, something catching her eyes. “Jesus, is that Henry Morgan?”

She motioned with her eyes in Henry’s direction. Henry was talking to a couple of party guests, the guests laughing at what he was saying, funny and confident Henry.

She shook her head. “I’m breathless. The inimitable Henry Morgan.”

“How do you know him?”

“I don’t know him personally, but I’m a huge fan. He was the guest conductor at La Scala when I was in Italy for the Venice Film Festival years ago. He is simply brilliant. That is to say, brilliant like Bernstein was brilliant. I’ve never seen anything like it. The passion he exudes up on the podium, conducting with his whole body . . .”

She was still staring, like she wanted to eat him. Why had I invited her again?

“Is he a friend of the family? Benjamin mentioned that your mother was a cellist. I would love to meet him if you don’t mind introducing us, if it isn’t an imposition, of course.”

“Benjamin would be glad to do that,” I said.

Michelle heard the edge in my voice. Then she smiled, returning to her mission, which apparently was to win me over. I wanted to give her a tip that complimenting my mother’s special friend probably wasn’t the best way to go.

“I didn’t really have the chance to say it earlier,” she said. “But I really appreciate being included tonight. It means a lot to me. And to Maddie. She has really taken to you.”