“I have it now,” said Hooper. “I inherited that from him.”

“They played all those wonderful songs. ‘Mountain Greenery’ was one. He could two-step so well. I could barely keep up with him. The only thing he wouldn’t do was waltz. He said waltzes made him dizzy. Everybody was so tan. I don’t think there was any rain all summer long. I remember I chose a yellow dress for that night because it went with my tan. There were two contests, a charleston that Susie Kendall and Chip Fogarty won. And the samba contest. They played ‘Brazil’ in the finals, and we danced as if our lives depended on it. Bending sideways and backward like crazy people. I thought I was going to collapse when it was over. You know what we won for first prize? A canned chicken. I kept it in my room until it got so old it began to swell and Daddy made me throw it away.” Ellen smiled. “Those were fun times. I try not to think about them too much.”

“Why?”

“The past always seems better when you look back on it than it did at the time. And the present never looks as good as it will in the future. It’s depressing if you spend too much time reliving the old joys. You think you’ll never have anything as good again.”

“It’s easy for me to keep my mind off the past.”

“Really? Why?”

“It just wasn’t too great, that’s all. David was the first-born. I was pretty much of an afterthought. I think my purpose in life was to keep the parents’ marriage together. And I failed. That’s pretty crummy when you fail at the first thing you’re supposed to accomplish. David was twenty when the parents got divorced. I wasn’t even eleven. And the divorce wasn’t exactly amiable. The few years before it weren’t too amiable, either. It’s the old story—nothing special—but it wasn’t a lot of fun. I probably make too much of it. Anyway, I look forward to a lot of things. I don’t look back a lot.”

“I suppose that’s healthier.”

“I don’t know. Maybe if I had a terrific past, I’d spend all my time living in it. But … enough of that. I should get down to the dock. You’re sure I can’t drop you anywhere.”

“Positive, thank you. My car’s just across the street.”

“Okay. Well …” Hooper held out his hand. “It’s been really great to see you again, and I hope I’ll see you before I go.”

“I’d like that,” said Ellen, shaking his hand.

“I don’t suppose I could get you out on a tennis court late some afternoon.”

Ellen laughed. “Oh my. I haven’t held a tennis racket in my hand since I can’t remember when. But thanks for asking.”

“Okay. Well, see you.” Hooper turned and trotted the few yards down the block to his car, a green Ford Pinto.

Ellen stood and watched as Hooper started the car, maneuvered out of the parking space, and pulled out into the street. As he drove past her, she raised her hand to her shoulder and waved, tentatively, shyly. Hooper stuck his left hand out of the car window and waved. Then he turned the corner and was gone.