Walter Novus appeared in front of them, a hulking boy with big, sad eyes. Annie had noticed him being pushed in their direction by his two brothers. He asked Nora to dance. As Nora followed him, she turned back, and Annie gave her a wink. Glancing around the hall again, she saw Lew sitting on his own. He had clearly been watching her, and when their eyes met he hooked his finger into his shirt collar and made a funny face, as if it were strangling him. My husband. He is my husband. All at once she was flooded with love, guilt, admiration, and pity. Under power of this, she went over and led him to the dance floor. In his arms she felt happy for the first time today, a part of the celebration: This was her town, these her people, and at this moment she didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world but here, dancing with this man, whom she deeply loved and would always love. And yet at some level she understood that this feeling existed only because she also adored the Indian boy, now leading not only children but dozens of adults in his kooky Indian village dance: He was free again, was, for now, hers again. She caught sight of Pela and Olenka moving around the abandoned tables like crows, stealing the candles and party favors. The Yosts’ youngest boy had been assigned to watch them in case they took off with someone’s coat, as they had at Mary and Cal’s wedding. The sight of the boy, who was leaning against a wall with a face straight out of Dick Tracy, made her laugh, and in the arms of Lew, whom she loved, she felt as if she would dissolve in happiness.

Then she noticed that Nora had sat down again and was doing all she could not to cry. Her own mom was dancing with Bennet, Goldwin was looking over at Ruth with a face like a hurt child, and while Cal had gone to the bathroom, Mary was saying something fiercely to Frankie, which he was ignoring. Why did she notice these things? She wanted to be happy, wanted only the dancing and the dresses, the surface, Lew’s undeniable beauty, the sun in the leaves, the sun on the water, glitter and glamor, mindless light in that place where there is no time, where nothing grows old, nothing changes, nothing dies.

When Ruth and Raj returned home after the wedding, there was a strange truck in the driveway. A man descended from the porch as they got out of Ruth’s Model A. Waving, he called her name. He had an English accent.

When she got close enough to make out his face, her heart skipped, and all she could think to say was, “It’s not Haig, is it?”

He shook her hand. “The anti-Haig in all my diabolical glory. Warren.” He shook Raj’s hand.