“I was talking to the dads,” Michael said, clearing his throat and looking away from Dean. He pointed toward the bar, where Maggie spotted Morris, her first aid hero, next to a man she guessed had to be Sy’s father. He was just as tall but on the rangier side. Where Sy’s hair went to blond, his father’s was a few shades darker. But there was no mistaking the same gray eyes. The men raised their glasses at them, and everyone around the table echoed the gesture.

“Mama B’s playing tonight,” Nirina explained to Maggie and Dean. “And my husband better get here quick if he wants to escape her wrath.”

“And by wrath, she means disappointment,” Kayla said.

“That’s Mama B,” Silas said, pointing to the stage.

Breonna Wright had the presence for a stage. She strutted across it in strappy gold stilettos, skinny pants that stopped a few inches above her ankles, and a billowing blouse in reds and golds and oranges. Her skin was dark. Her hair was high. Her smile was a beacon.

The crowd broke into spontaneous applause, and all she’d done was walk onstage.

Maggie glanced around the table and saw nothing but unadulterated adoration directed at the woman.

“It’s impossible not to love her,” Silas said in Maggie’s ear.

It could have been her imagination, but she felt like the woman’s gaze landed on them in that exact moment.

The band members—a guitarist, bass player, drummer, and keyboardist—settled in around her and started warming up.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mama B purred into the microphone, “thank you for coming out tonight to spend a little quality time with your neighbors. I’m Mama B, and this is B’s Blues. We’re here to get your feet tapping and those shoulders shimmying. I want to see you all on the dance floor. You too, Myrtle,” she said, pointing to an older woman in sweatpants and a Boise State Broncos T-shirt.

The crowd laughed along with Myrtle.

“Okay, boys,” Mama B said. “Let’s get this party started.”

The band was good. Mama B was better than good. She crooned her way through some country classics—old favorites, judging by the reaction from the crowd—and then worked in a Sinatra number between an R&B classic and filled out the set list with Taylor Swift.

Morris and Emmett stopped by, and introductions were made. Morris reminded Maggie and Dean that they were both invited to the family cookout the following day. When the band smoothly shifted gears into the adorable “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” by Randy Newman, Emmett bowed low over Nirina’s hand and escorted her onto the dance floor.

Maggie felt a little sliver of jealousy, wondering if Dayana and Sebastian had danced like that at Dayana’s wedding. She did what she always did when she saw daughters and fathers and shook it off.