TWO HOURS LATER, OVER chicken salad sandwiches at her desk, Helen springs the details on me.
“We’ll invite everyone, including Anna and Bill—you told her, right?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes. She said they’d love to be there.”
Helen sits back. “How did she take it?” she asks quietly.
“Honestly,” I sigh, “I think she was a little disappointed. But she also said she understood. And she told me to tell you she’ll be glad to help.”
She smiles. “I’ll be sure to do that. Now, I’ll make dinner and have everything ready when Mass is over.”
Her face lights up with excitement. Helen used to love having people over for parties, though back then I did most of the cooking.
I turn my attention back to what she is saying as she continues, “We’ll start with hors d'oeuvres around six and then have dinner
