He waved that away. “It’s just the way things are. Anywhere you go, if you weren’t born and raised from diapers on Main Street, you aren’t ever going to be one of the ones that matter. And in my town, there was only room for my two brothers, the one living and the other dead. Especially after I hurt my knee.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. I always thought—See, after Chase died, I was coming up through high school, and everyone got the idea I might be as good as my brothers. You know, football, baseball, basketball. And since Chase missed the baseball season his senior year by going off and joining the Marines, everyone had this sense of incompleteness, I guess. So I was supposed to fill in and make everyone feel better, especially my dad. But then I hurt my knee the second football game my senior year. Couldn’t finish the football season, or play basketball or baseball. My dad pretty much washed his hands of me then.”

“And you’ve never forgiven him.”

“Well, I—” Harry stopped, looked up at her. “You really do cut right to the chase, don’t you?”

“Well, am I right?”

Harry poked at his lasagna with his fork. “Well, maybe, but I wouldn’t say it’s all just in the one direction. I don’t think he’s forgiven me yet, either.”

“What has he to forgive you for?”

“For not being any kind of a hero.” And he looked up at her with a biting, crinkle-eyed, sad smile.

As soon as they were finished eating, Harry patted his mouth with his linen napkin and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, excused himself from the table. Still sipping the same glass of wine, Anne watched him as he wove through the tables and climbed the steps onto the stage. He made his way through the few couples dancing and leaned over with a friendly hand on the piano player’s back, said something, slid some money from his pants pocket into the tip jar. The tuxedoed man nodded, mid-flourish, and Anne watched as Harry made his way back toward her, an impish smile on his face as he met her eyes. She was not exactly conscious of the fact that she hadn’t felt so vivid in ages, the back of her neck tingling with the freshness of possibility.

As soon as Harry slid back into his seat, the pianist began playing “Embraceable You.”

“Well, what do you know about that,” Harry said. “Looks like they’re playing our song, Miss Wallace.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “What a coincidence!”

“Like to dance?”

She nodded.