Allie’s door opened and Mrs. Donovan walked to the table, where she began slicing up the watermelon. Leo raised the glass and sipped off the top half of the Old Crow. It numbed his tongue and the back of his throat and he was relieved watermelon was coming. He could feel Allie’s open doorway to his right. He tried not to look.

“You three sounded wonderful,” Mrs. Donovan said.

“I especially liked your father’s singing. I’ve never said this about a man before, but he has a sweet voice, doesn’t he? That’s what I told Tess.”

Mrs. Donovan slid a slice of watermelon onto a plate and set it in front of Leo. She told him to help himself and he did. It was red-ripe and cold from the fridge. A rivulet of juice ran off his chin and onto his plate.

“Here’s to your harmonica playing, Leo. I wish to hell I’d heard more of it this summer.” Chick drank down the remaining half-shot. He set down the empty jigger and looked at it as intently as if it were singing him an old song. His hair had grown longer in the back and he was two days short of a shave. Leo ate his watermelon slowly. He watched Mrs. Donovan’s knife work itself through the rind. Then Chick yelled Allie’s name and Leo jerked on the bench.

Mrs. Donovan set Chick’s plate down with both hands. “You can sing Chris back to sleep, not me.” She walked behind Leo, past the hospital bed, and up the stairs. Allie came out of her room. She had changed into her tight bell-bottom blue jeans and a white T-shirt that had green and yellow crayon marks on one shoulder. Her hair hung loose and she had some kind of dark makeup on her upper eyelashes. She said hi in her waitress voice from Beatrice’s, all business and forced smile, but she looked wonderful.

“Sit down, Allie Cat. Next to Leo.”

Allie walked behind Leo, then sat beside him on the bench. He wanted to look at her, but he didn’t want to turn his head, so he glanced as far as her crossed legs, not more than half a foot from his. Chick told her to take a slice of melon but Allie said no thank you, she didn’t want any. Her voice was still polite, even with her father, and it seemed to Leo she sounded almost scared. Chick hadn’t touched his watermelon. Allie was bouncing the calf of her top leg against her knee under the table, and it made the bench rock a little. Leo wiped his face with the back of his arm.

“Some might say it’s none of my business, Leo, but why in hell did you do it?”

Now Leo looked at Allie, but she was staring in the direction of the far kitchen wall, her foot going faster under the table. “I didn’t want to do it. Allie really did what she wanted, I guess.”