“This is my daughter, Bay.”

He nodded again.

Sydney looked disappointed but shrugged it off and discussed the choices of ice cream with her daughter. There was chocolate mint, strawberry rhubarb, caramel peach, and vanilla coffee. It was his grandfather’s idea. Give people something they don’t know they like yet. They’ll always remember you for it. The wives of some of the dairy workers were helping that day. Henry did some scooping, but it was clear the women were in charge.

“Could we have two chocolate mint, please?” Sydney finally asked.

Henry immediately scooped out small balls of ice cream and put them on the paper cones. Sydney watched him while he did it, her eyes on his hands, then traveling up his forearms, then finally to his face.

She studied him as he handed them the cones. Still, he didn’t say a word. He couldn’t even smile.

“It’s nice to see you again, Henry. You look good.” She and her daughter turned and walked away. Halfway across the green, she looked over her shoulder at him.

“That was the most pitiful display I’ve ever seen,” Lester finally said, cackling. “I was shocked by a milking machine once when I was a boy. Knocked me off my feet. You look like I felt.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t say anything,” Henry said.

“Zap! That machine got me. Couldn’t say a word. I just opened and closed my mouth like a fish,” Lester said, and laughed some more. He lifted his cane and poked Henry in the leg. “Zzzzzzzzppppp!”

Henry jumped in surprise. “Very funny,” he said, and started to laugh.

Evanelle and Fred sat on the rock bench circling the fountain. They waved as Sydney and Bay passed, eating ice cream. Bay had the ugly brooch Evanelle had given her pinned to her pink T-shirt, and Evanelle felt guilty. Bay was so conscientious and concerned for others’ feelings that she felt she had to wear the pin just because Evanelle gave it to her. But that wasn’t a pin for a little girl. Why on earth did Evanelle need to give her such a thing? She sighed. She might never know.

“I’m nervous,” Fred finally said, rubbing his hands on his neatly pressed shorts.

Evanelle turned to him. “You look it.”

Fred stood and paced. Evanelle stayed where she was, in the shade of the oak-leaf sculpture. Fred was hot and bothered enough for the both of them. “He said he’d be here to talk. In public. What does he think I’m going to do if we’re alone, shoot him?”

“Men. You can’t live with them, you can’t shoot them.”

“How can you be so calm? How would you feel if your husband said he’d show up and didn’t?”

“Given that he’s dead, Fred, I wouldn’t be real surprised.”

Fred sat back down. “I’m sorry.”