all are that you could make it tonight to celebrate my grandparents’ sixty-fifth anniversary.” There was a round of applause.
“God bless ’em!” boomed Lorena of the unfortunately backless dress. “Hope they’re still getting it on! Go, seniors! Whoo-hoo!”
Levi’d have to make sure she wasn’t driving.
Faith gave a pained smile. “Uh, okay, Lorena. Anyway, we also wanted to have you see the Barn at Blue Heron, which is available for any type of special occasion. This was the milking barn back in the 1800s, and it burned down in 1912, when my great-grandmother sent my great-grandfather here to sleep after they had a fight. I guess Great-Grandpa knocked over a candle, and that was that. He barely made it out, the story goes, and you can bet he never made my great-grandmother mad again.” There was a warm laugh from the audience.
Levi glanced at Jeremy, who was sitting a few tables away. He was smiling, his eyes glued to Faith, looking like a man in love.
“I’m really grateful my dad gave me the chance to make this space into something new, and there’s no better way to christen it than with my grandparents’ milestone. So thanks, everyone, and without further ado, my grandfather would like to say a few words to his beautiful bride.”
The guests gave an Aw, then clapped as old Mr. Holland went over to Faith. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, chuckling. “I guess not many people can say they’ve been married sixty-five years. But I have been.” He paused, looking out at the guests with a smile. “Where did I go wrong?”
There was a round of laughter.
“People say to me, John, I don’t know how you do it. And I tell them just look at my wife. She’s got the face of a saint! A Saint Bernard, that is!”
Levi glanced over at Mrs. Holland, whose expression was thunderous (and actually, yes, did resemble the jowly dog).
Faith darted out and whispered something to her grandfather, but he just shook his head, and took a few steps away from her. “Faithie here wants me to dance with my wife,” he said, “but how can I? She’s got two left feet, and I’ve got a ball and chain!”
“I’ll dance with you, sweetie!” Lorena called. That rubbery dress...good God. She went up to old Mr. Holland. “Put on some music!” she ordered. The DJ complied, and the opening chords of “SexyBack” came booming over the speakers.
“Now you’re talking!” said Mr. Holland, and, to Levi’s horror (and the horror of every living creature, he imagined), Lorena began gyrating her flat, aging ass against Faith’s grandfather, who put up his fists in classic white-guy style and bobbed in time to the Justin Timberlake song, which Levi had always liked. Until now.
Faith darted out again, her face pained. “Stop the music, please? Lorena, take your seat, okay? Please? Could you just...go over there? Thanks.” She grabbed the mic out of her grandfather’s hand. “Okay, thank you, Pops. Go sit down.” She pushed her hair back and tried to smile. “Um, well, there’s a lot to be said for having a sense of humor, right? Dad? Would you like to say something?”
Her father shook his head.
“No? You sure? Okay. Um...Goggy? How about you?”
“Does anyone know a divorce attorney?” she said, her voice good and loud.
Faith winced. “Okay. Right.” She took a deep breath. “You know what? I stayed with my grandparents for a couple of weeks recently, and here’s the thing. They might not be the most, um...romantic couple in the world, but they do take care of each other.” She paused, looking at her grandparents. “Pops might not bring Goggy flowers, but he puts her cup out every night, the tea bag right in it, one teaspoon of sugar, so that in the morning, all she has to do is add water.”
Levi used to set up the coffee for Nina. Same idea, he guessed.
“And, um, my grandmother,” Faith continued, “she cooks dinner every night. Makes Pops watch his cholesterol and stuff like that.”
“Nights like tonight, I wonder why,” Mrs. H. said, getting a laugh of her own.
“So maybe my grandparents aren’t the poster children for love. But they’ve farmed this land all their lives, never sold off a piece, even when times were hard, even when the whole crop was lost in a hailstorm or the year when it rained so much the grapes rotted on the vine.” She turned to her father. “They raised my dad and helped him with us kids after my mom died.” She paused. “Maybe love isn’t just a bouquet of roses once in a while. Maybe it’s just sticking it out, when it’s hard, when you’re mad, when you’re tired.”
The place had gone quiet. “Goggy, Pops, I picked a special song for you two. ‘And I Love You So’ by Perry Como, your favorite, Goggy.” Faith raised her glass. “So, folks, um...to my grandparents. Happy anniversary, Goggy and Pops.”
“Hear, hear,” murmured the guests.
The DJ started the song. Mr. and Mrs. Holland stayed put. “This is when you dance, Pops. Goggy.”
They didn’t move.
Suddenly, Lorena Creech lurched to her feet, knocking her chair over. “You’re what?” she screeched, pointing to the woman in the paper-bag dress. “You’re not his date! I’m his date!”
Yep. Definitely getting her keys.
“Wow,” Faith said. “We are certainly entertaining tonight. Uh, enjoy the music, everyone.” She gestured to the DJ, who cranked up the volume, then put the mic down and walked out of the barn.
Poor kid, to have done all this work and have the night ruined by badly behaved adults. Nevertheless, a few couples were going out onto the dance floor.
Levi went over to the Holland table. “What do you mean, we’re not dating?” Lorena was saying to Faith’s dad. “Of course we’re dating!”
“I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding,” John said, wincing. “We’re not dating. I’m sorry.”
“As you should be,” Mrs. Johnson said. “Your children have been telling you what this woman was up to for weeks, but do you listen? No. You don’t.”
“He’s got better taste than you,” murmured the paper-bag woman, which made Lorena swell.
“Do you have a ride home, Mrs. Creech?” Levi asked, trying not to look directly at her. “I don’t want you driving.”
“I’ll call a cab, Mr. Uptight. And don’t worry. I never drink and drive.”
“I never drink at all,” said the other woman, her voice prim.
“No, I bet you don’t!” Lorena said. “Too busy talking about your mucus production! That’s it. I’m leaving. John Holland, you’ve broken my heart.”
“So sorry,” John said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Um, also, Jane, I’m not dating anyone. Sorry.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake,” the bag lady said, tossing her napkin on the table. “Why was I invited, then? I’m leaving, too. What a waste of time.”
“At
