“Yes, please,” Dave said. “I’m living in a hotel—some home cooking would be a real treat.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said, and she went off to the kitchen.

“Have you come from Los Angeles today?” Wharton asked.

“Yes.”

“Not just to call on me, I’m sure.”

“Actually, yes. I want to talk to you one more time about tonight’s show.”

“Okay,” Wharton said dubiously.

Mrs. Wharton returned with the dessert on a platter and began to serve.

Dave wanted the children on his side. He said to them: “In the show that your dad and I made, there’s a part where Percy Marquand does a duet with my sister, Evie Williams.”

Edward said: “I saw their movie—it was a blast!”

“At the end of the song, Evie kisses Percy on the cheek.” Dave paused.

Caroline said: “So? Big deal!”

Mrs. Wharton raised a flirtatious eyebrow as she passed Dave a large wedge of strawberry shortcake.

Dave went on: “Mr. Wharton and I talked about whether this would offend our audience—something neither of us wants to do. We decided to leave out the kiss.”

Wharton said: “I think it was a wise choice.”

Dave said: “I’ve come here to see you today, Mr. Wharton, because I believe that, since we made that decision, the situation has changed.”

“You’re talking about the assassination of Martin Luther King.”

“Dr. King was killed, but America is still bleeding.” That sentence came into Dave’s head from nowhere, the way song lyrics sometimes did.

Wharton shook his head, and his mouth set in a stubborn line. Dave’s optimism lost its fizz. Wharton said ponderously: “I have more than a thousand employees—many of them Negroes, by the way. If sales of Foam plummet because we offended viewers, some of those people will lose their jobs. I can’t risk that.”

“We would both be taking a risk,” Dave said. “My own popularity is also at stake. But I want to do something to help this country heal.”

Wharton smiled indulgently, as he might have if one of his children said something hopelessly idealistic. “And you think a kiss can do that?”

Dave made his voice lower and harsher. “It’s Saturday night, Albert. Picture this: all over America, young black men are wondering whether to go out tonight and start fires and smash windows, or kick back and stay out of trouble. Before making up their minds, a lot of them will watch Dave Williams and Friends, just because it’s hosted by a rock star. How do you want them feeling at the end of the show?”

“Well, obviously—”

“Think of how we built that set for Percy and Evie. Everything about the scene says that white and black have to be kept apart: their costumes, the roles they’re playing, and the counter between them.”

“That was the intention,” said Wharton.

“We emphasized their separateness, and I don’t want to throw that in black people’s faces, especially not tonight, when their great hero has been murdered. But Evie’s kiss, right at the end, undermines the whole setup. The kiss says we don’t have to exploit one another and beat one another and murder one another. It says we can touch one another. That shouldn’t be a big thing, but it is.”