Rick and Taylor got tired of late smoky nights with little recognition and less money. Rick had a degree in science and finished his master’s and started working for Pfizer. It might have been Parke-Davis then. And Taylor, who had a degree in education, took classes in computer science and began training people in pharmaceutical software applications.

Taylor, neither the one with the bright red hair, skinny jeans, and the swinging breezy style who I saw sing, nor the dancing Taylor with the highlighted hair and billowing colorful tunic who I met at Tracy’s party, is Taylor now. Her hair is brown, showing a little gray at the roots. She hasn’t gained any weight, though. In fact, it looks like she’s lost some. Dark circles around her eyes make her look ethereal and somewhat frail. Her scarf hides more than it shows off. She wears no lipstick.

I don’t know if the cause of Taylor’s appearance is related to being in love with Allie, raising her family, or struggling to find a new job since Pfizer abandoned its Ann Arbor location. Maybe it’s a combination of all three.

Now she stands before her bags. She waits patiently for her audience to sit down and be silent. But we don’t quiet. We talk to one another. Jeannie and Juliet laugh.

Taylor clears her throat. And waits. She does it again and we behave.

“First I want to say, I love this party. I look forward to it all year, each and every year, probably starting in summer. Then I start looking for cookie recipes and browsing stores for clever containers. To me, it launches the holiday season. We know that it’s going to be at your house.” She turns to me. “Marnie, when I walk in here, the cinnamon and pine greet me. I see your decorations, the tree with macramé ornaments, lit candles everywhere. I feel the love of friends.

“This is my favorite time of year. The parties. The sparkling lights on Christmas trees, downtown, stores, houses. The joy and celebration lasts from this party through January 1. And then there’s the beautiful snow. Sledding, snowmen, snowmobiling, ice skating outside. I love it. And your party starts it off and is the best of it.” Her voice diffuses. And she stands as though at a loss.

“Our party. We all make this party work,” I say.

“But you’re the organizer. You set the stage.”

Taylor shifts her weight from one foot to another. “This year I thought I’d have to quit. Things have been so bad.” She closes her eyes and swallows.

We are quiet, aware of the trembling in her voice.

“I was heartbroken. ’Cause I know the rule. If I didn’t bring cookies I’d be axed.”