“Over by the Palace of Fine Arts. I worked on a restoration job on the roof a few years back. Never been to a function there, though.” Of course he hadn’t. In the world of exclusive clubs, it was one of the most exclusive, according to the contractor he’d worked with on the project. From what he’d heard, you practically had to give blood to enter its rarefied halls. And now a nobody in a tool belt had been invited. All because of that vase. It must be some vase. “So I’ll see you there,” he stated.

She swallowed, turning the card over in her nervous hands. “Well, there’s, um, a dress code. It’s a black-tie reception. That means—”

“I bet I have a black tie left over from my days of waiting tables.” He couldn’t help laughing at her expression. “Natalie. I won’t show up in a denim tux.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“‘You can never be overdressed or overeducated’; isn’t that what Oscar Wilde said?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “He probably did. You’d know, wouldn’t you? I swear, Peach, the stuff you come up with …” She handed him the thick letterpressed card. “I wish we’d had more advance notice, but they really wanted to present the vase at the gala. And if—”

“Am I late?” Her grandfather made an appearance, his gait uneven as he emerged from the apartment in back.

“Come sit.” Natalie gestured Andrew over to the café seating area. “We were just talking about the reception where the vase is going to be unveiled.”

Peach detected a glimmer of concern in her eyes. Old Andrew had his shirt buttoned wrong, and he was still in his bedroom slippers. He smelled funky, too. Damn, that’s hard, he thought, watching a beloved grandparent struggling with the simplest of things. The old guy was smart and had led a long and interesting life, but he was fraying at the edges. Maybe even unraveling.

“Hey, man.” Peach stood up. “Let me help you with your shirt, okay?”

“My … Oh. Hello. Are you here about the radiator?”

“It’s me, Peach,” he said, quickly fixing the buttons. “The radiator is on my list.” The old iron hulk was a hundred years old and needed to be removed. “Is that shower bar working out for you?”

He nodded vaguely, giving no indication that he understood. Peach held out a chair for Andrew.

Natalie sent him a grateful look. “Here’s the Examiner. Save the crossword for me.”

“Very good. It’s a print day. There used to be a print edition every day,” Andrew said. “Now it’s only three times a week. The other days, Blythe prints off the pages from her computer. Have the morning glory muffins been delivered yet? I should like one with my coffee.”

Natalie got up and opened the bakery box. “Here you go. So, Grandy—”