Denise looked surprised. “The Sopranos?”
“She’s joking,” Nor said hastily. “Our job this evening is at the party the Badgett brothers are giving to benefit the senior citizens center.”
“Don’t they live in that big house-?” Denise began.
“Yes, they do,” Marissa blurted, “and I hear they have an indoor pool and a bowling alley.”
“We’ll let you know every sorry detail,” Billy promised. “Come on. Let’s get your jacket.”
As they started walking toward the coat check, Sterling took a moment to look at the framed photos along the walls. Many of them showed Nor posing with diners at the tables. Some were autographed by people who were probably present-day celebrities, he decided. There were pictures of a glamorous Nor onstage, singing with a band; Billy, guitar in hand, performing with a group; Nor and Billy together onstage; Billy and Nor with Marissa.
Sterling could see from the older pictures that Nor once must have been a cabaret singer. He came upon a number of photographs in which she was performing with a partner. The sign on the bandstand read NOR KELLY AND BILL CAMPBELL. Billy’s father, Sterling thought. I wonder what happened to him, and how long has she had the restaurant? Then a poster for a New Year’s Eve celebration at Nor’s Place dating back twenty years made him realize that she had been in this business a long time.
Marissa left after a final kiss from Billy and Nor. Even though Sterling knew that Marissa couldn’t see him, he felt left out that she hadn’t somehow sensed his presence and maybe given him a high five.
You’re being ridiculous, he chided himself. But when he saw Marissa with Billy it made him think of the child he might have had if he and Annie had married.
Agreeing to be ready to leave in fifteen minutes, Billy and Nor rushed to change. To kill time, Sterling wandered over to the bar, where a single patron was chatting with the bartender. He sat on a nearby stool. If I were still alive, I’d order a scotch, he thought. It’s certainly been a long time since I had one. Next year Marissa will ask me if I get hungry or thirsty. Actually, I don’t have any desire to eat or drink, he realized, even though I get cold when I’m outside and feel crowded in cars. As Marissa would say, “Go figure.”
“Christmas was nice, Dennis,” the patron was saying. “I never thought I’d get through it, the first one without Peggy. Honest to God, when I went downstairs that morning I was ready to shoot myself, but then when I came here it was like being with family.”
Well, I’ll be darned, Sterling thought. That’s Chet Armstrong, the sportscaster. He was just starting out on Channel 11 when I got beaned. He was a skinny kid then, but the way he delivered the sports news, you’d think every play was crucial. Now he’s broad shouldered, white haired, and has the craggy face of a man who spent a great deal of time outdoors.
“I felt almost guilty that Christmas Day turned out to be so pleasant,” Armstrong continued, “but I knew Peggy was probably smiling down on me.”
I wonder if Peggy ever did time in the celestial waiting room, Sterling thought. He wished Chet would open his wallet. Maybe he was carrying her picture.
“Peggy was a terrific gal,” Dennis, a beefy redhead with large, agile hands, agreed as he polished beer glasses and filled orders from the slips of paper the waiters dropped in front of him. Sterling noticed that Armstrong’s eyes darted to one of the framed pictures over the bar. He leaned forward to get a good look at it. It was a picture of Nor with Chet, whose arm was around the shoulders of a petite woman who had to be Peggy.
I did see her, Sterling thought. She was a couple of rows behind me in the waiting room. But she didn’t stay there long enough to really settle in.
“Peggy was a lot of fun, but don’t get on her bad side,” Chet reminisced with a chuckle.
Oh, that’s what delayed her, Sterling thought. She had a bit of a temper.
“Listen,” Dennis said in the tone of a father confessor, “I know it seems impossible, but I bet that someday down the line you’ll meet someone. You’ve still got plenty of time.”
Just watch who you play golf with, Sterling reflected.
“Turned seventy last March, Dennis.”
“Today that’s young.”
Sterling shook his head. I’d be ninety-six. No one would accuse me of being a spring chicken.
“How long have you been here anyhow, Dennis?” Chet asked.
Thank you, Chet, Sterling thought, hoping that Dennis’s reply would be a big help in his getting the lay of the land.
“Nor opened this place twenty-three years ago. Bill died just when Billy was starting school. She didn’t want to be on the road anymore. I knew her from one of the clubs in New York. After six months, she gave me a call. She’d caught her bartender with his hand in the till. Our kids were almost school age, and my wife wanted to get out of the city. I’ve been here ever since.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sterling saw that Billy and Nor were on the way out. I’m falling down on the job, he thought, hurrying to catch up with them as they walked across the parking lot.
He was not surprised to see that they had one of those little trucks. Must be the style these days. He smiled at the thought of Marissa getting into Roy ’s staid vehicle. Like any kid, she probably hated her friends to see her associated with anything boring.
He hoisted himself into the backseat as Billy was turning the key in the ignition, then glanced over his shoulder at the boxes of what appeared to be musical equipment. If only they knew they had a “groupie” in the backseat, Sterling chuckled to himself.
Settled in, he stretched his legs. I don’t miss being crowded by baby seats, he thought. He realized he was looking forward to the party. At the party the night before his final golf game, they had been playing Buddy Holly and Doris Day records. It would be fun if Nor and Billy sang like them, he mused.
The car drove through the snow-covered streets of Madison Village. Reminds me of Currier and Ives, Sterling thought, looking at the well-kept houses, many of them tastefully adorned with holiday lights. Evergreen wreaths with holly berries graced front doors. Festive Christmas trees sparkled through parlor windows.
On one lawn, the sight of a beautiful crèche with exquisitely carved figures provoked a wistful smile.
Then they passed a house with a dozen lifesized plastic angels cavorting on the lawn. That bossy angel at the door of the Heavenly Council room should get a load of that monstrosity, he thought.
He caught a glimpse of Long Island Sound. I always liked the North Shore of the Island, he reflected, as he craned his neck for a better look at the water, but it’s a lot more built up than it used to be.
In the front seat, Nor and Billy were chuckling about Marissa’s attempts to be with them so she could see for herself the inside of the big house.
“She’s some piece of goods,” Billy said proudly. “She takes after you, Mom. Always with her ear to the ground, afraid she’ll miss something.”
Agreeing, Nor laughed. “I prefer to call it a healthy interest in her surroundings. Shows how smart she is.”