“Sorry, Alice,” Fitz murmured, though the moment had already passed. “I must have misheard,” he added lamely, and was his glass empty already? He hadn’t come here to get drunk, had he? And where was Joanie? All the way across the room with Ken and Fanchon and some people he didn’t recognize, her head thrown back, laughing at something Ken had just said. The sight of her reminded him all over again of how strange this was—and of what was to come—and he felt his stomach clench. “But yeah, Charlie, I don’t know what to expect—this’ll be my first time—so I can’t pretend to know what the music protocol is, but I agree about Coltrane. He’s our modern master, even beyond Bird or Miles or anybody.”

“Pure mathematics of the soul, that’s what I say.”

“Wait a minute,” Alice said, shimmying out from under Charlie’s arm. “You mean this is your first time? Really?”

Fitz nodded.

She let out a nervous laugh. “Mine too. Jesus, from what Charlie told me, I thought everybody here was part of the club—what about your wife? Her first time too?”

“Yes, both of us,” he said, swallowing the words as if he were taking a breath instead of expelling it. Across the room, Joanie was still laughing, but it was a laugh with a ragged edge to it because she was anxious too, everybody was, and everybody was waiting for Tim, and where was he, what was taking him so long?

As it turned out, Tim had been upstairs, preparing things, and now he appeared among them like an avatar, and everybody—jazz, talk and gin notwithstanding—turned to glance at him as he bounced down the stairs, clean and athletic and wearing the big booster’s grin that never seemed to leave his face. He came straight up to where Fitz was standing with Charlie and Alice, pumped his hand and said, “Welcome, Fitz, welcome . . . and where’s—oh, this must be her, right, the pretty young woman in the black dress over there with Fanchon? Joanie, right? Hello, Joanie!” he called out, waving her over.

Joanie wasn’t shy, that was for sure, and when Tim held out his hand she took it in hers and went up on her tiptoes to peck a kiss to his cheek and tell him in soft martini-inflected tones what an honor it was to finally meet him and even more to be invited for this—and here she faltered, just an instant, searching for the word—“this occasion.” And then she laughed and Tim laughed too before turning to the room at large and clapping his hands together twice to get everyone’s attention.