28. Sixty-four
The tantalizing aroma of grilling meat had drifted so long on the air that by the time lunch was announced, there was an immediate and grateful movement toward the heavily-laden tables the catering staff had set out along the inner edge of the terrace. Had Bonnie not been a seasoned veteran of Wyndham-Pryce family celebrations, her eyes must have opened wide at the sight of so enormous a variety and quantity of food. One table was covered end to end with nothing more than salads, the large assortment ranging from the everyday tossed greens through pasta and fruit salads to the more exotic offerings of tabbouleh and fattoush. Its near neighbor boasted a huge bowl of peeled, cooked shrimp on ice surrounded on three sides by platters of chicken wings, miniature crab cakes, baby quiche lorraine and, Bonnie's particular downfall, flaky spinach turnovers. On the longest table, a line of covered chafing dishes kept the charred salmon steaks, pork spare ribs, chicken kebabs and sirloin tips piping hot, and if none of these appealed, Bridget was standing ready at the grill to cook hamburgers and sausages to order. A selection of cookies, patisseries, and bite-sized cupcakes, enticingly arranged on tiered stands, was provided to tide over those too impatient for dessert to wait for cake and ice cream. An outsider might have judged it folly, or worse, to provide so lavish a feast, but Bonnie knew better than to underestimate the appetite of the clan's younger members, some of whom, she often thought, could rise to stardom in the world of competitive eating. Within the hour, the huge spread had been largely decimated.
While the caterers restored order and prepared to serve the meal's pièce de résistance, the Senator graciously submitted to his guests' nagging and opened the gifts they had brought for him. There were the usual unimaginative presents: bottles of fine wine and expensive liquor, red, white and blue neckwear, gourmet foodstuffs, and curious gadgets. Bonnie was only too conscious that her gift of a vintage silver tie clip embellished with the figure of a mallard in flight fell in this category, and though the Senator thanked her with genuine warmth, she could not help but note with chagrin the greater pleasure he took in examining the darling little decoy Vanna had chosen for him. The Senator's nephews and nieces, being an irreverent bunch, treated their uncle to mugs decorated with tasteless wordplay ("Duck my sick" and "Master Baiter"), industrial-size jars of antacid tablets and pain relievers, goofy headgear, and t-shirts with clever sayings the Senator was unlikely ever to wear. Dana's beribboned wicker basket crammed to overflowing with such useful items as hair dye for men, laxatives, hemorrhoid cream, travel-packs of adult diapers, candy fake teeth and a collapsible cane was the last present of the afternoon, and, to judge by the Senator's laughter, the best gag gift of all.
No sooner was the Senator's loot collected and arrayed on a nearby table, than the patio door slid open to disgorge Bridget and, on her heels, two of her employees carrying on the cloth-draped board between them the multi-tiered birthday cake. A murmur of appreciation went up as the men walked carefully down the sloping lawn and maneuvered the precarious creation onto the table set up to receive it. In keeping with the setting, the pastry chef had chosen a nautical theme: the bottom round layer had been frosted in various shades of blue to resemble waves, while along the lip surrounding the middle tier two motor boats shaped entirely of fondant chased one another around. The top layer, iced white and encircled by a ring of yellow candles, was surmounted by a large sun-shaped medallion in whose center glittered the numbers six and four. The men, having delivered the cake without incident, stepped back to a smattering of applause which they acknowledged with relieved grins.
This was apparently Trev's cue, as, without a word to anyone, he rose from his spot at the picnic table and moved to take up a position before the company. "Everyone! Hey, there! Can I have your attention please?" He had to repeat himself several times before the buzz of conversation completely died down, and all eyes turned his way. He gestured toward the impressive confection behind him. "I know you're all impatient for a slice of that delicious-looking cake, but when you're celebrating the birthday of someone of my father's great age…" He favored the Senator with an impudent, laughing look. "…it takes quite a while to light all the candles. Fortunately, cake is not the only remaining highlight on the program today. We have with us Vanna Greeley…"
At the mention of her name, Vanna detached herself from a group of her fellow campaign staffers and, with a general smile and wave, wended her way to Trev's side. She had, from somewhere, unearthed a bamboo walking cane and an old straw boater which she'd set at a rakish angle on her head.
"Many of you will remember Vanna as a former Miss Virginia Teen and a runner-up for the Miss Virginia title a few years back. As a contestant, her talent was singing…"
"Not opera!" Vanna broke in with a reassuring grin. "Don't worry!"
"You do mostly show tunes and old standards, right?" At Vanna's nod, Trev turned back to the crowd. "So, friends and family, I'm pleased to announce you're in for a special treat. As a last tribute for today's guest of honor, Vanna is going to sing a golden oldie that some of you senior citizens in the audience might recognize. At least," he clarified, "you might recognized the tune. The lyrics have been adapted to suit the occasion. So…" He consulted Vanna with his eyes and received equally wordless permission. "Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, please join me in welcoming today's featured performer, Vanna Greeley!"
The gathering, disposed to be pleased, burst into encouraging applause with a few shrill whistles and staccato hoots thrown in for good measure. Vanna doffed her hat, and, placing it over her heart, bowed her appreciation left, right and center. Straightening, she extended an arm to one side, and indicated a dark, reed-thin young man who was striding toward her. "On the clarinet, ladies and gentlemen, my able accompanist, Steve Yates. Today, for your entertainment, we are going to perform our take on a classic by — I'm assured by credible sources! — one of the Senator's all-time favorite bands. This particular song, Senator, was a hit before your mother was born, and though she was born a long, long time ago, it's one you might know. Everyone, please feel free to clap along, and if you catch on to the refrain by the end, don't hesitate to join in. We're calling our version 'Now you're sixty-four'." She planted the cane between widely-set feet, leaned her weight onto the curved head, and looked Steve's way. He took the mouthpiece of his instrument between his lips and, at her nod, produced the first bars of an old-timey-type melody which seemed, to Bonnie, vaguely familiar. As the intro played, Vanna swayed from the waist in time, and then, swinging the cane up under one arm, began to sing.
"Now that you're older,
Losing your hair, and your hearing, too,
We will still be sending you valentines,
Birthday greetings, bottles of wine.
You work so hard to serve public good.
Who could ask for more?
That's why we need you,
And we still heed you,
Now you're sixty-four."
As she sang, Vanna was in constant, fluid motion, moving lightly on her feet, and flourishing the hat and cane to great advantage. In the brief musical interlude between one verse and the next, she rested the point of the cane against the turf, and capered round it in mincing steps. The music tailed away, she gave her cane a twirl, and sang on.
"You could be handy helming a cruise when our lunch is done.
We could motor over to the lake's far side.
That would be a heck of a ride!
But not if you'd rather take a short nap,
Not if it's a chore!
We will still need you.
We will still heed you, now you're sixty-four."
The audience, hugely entertained, had started clapping to the beat, but had to give it up as the song transitioned to a faster rhythm at the bridge.
"Every summer you have spent your week-ends at this lake-front house (Though it's not too near!).
You relax and rest.
Friends, neighbors, family here at your request."
Having come in for an honorable mention, the listeners cheered themselves, and then, the clarinet solo signaling a return to familiar musical ground, they took up clapping once again. Vanna executed a neat little jig to the jaunty tune, and, catching the cane up lengthwise between her hands, prepared to bring the performance to a rousing close.
"We wish you happy, we wish you well.
On your special day.
Best of health, increasing wealth, a joyful life —
That's our wish for you and your wife!
May the Good Lord in Heaven above bless you evermore!
Because we still need you,
And we will heed you, now you're sixty-four."
Enough of the audience had chimed in on the refrain to embolden Vanna to cry out, "One more time, together!" and the company had responded beautifully, singing the lines in an admittedly ragged but wonderfully lusty manner, to enormous general satisfaction. Steve played the sprightly musical phrase one last time, and Vanna, after a final lively turn around her cane, pulled off her hat as the last note sounded and lunged into a snappy, sideways bow.
As one, young and old jumped to their feet and rent the air with clamorous applause. Shouts of "bravo" and "encore" were heard above the commotion as Vanna and Steve accepted their ovation with bright smiles and slight bows. It appeared, when Vanna raised both hands for quiet and announced a next number, that the crowd was to be indulged, but she only gestured to the cake, now topped by a ring of miniature flames, and led everyone in belting out a heartfelt rendition of the traditional "Happy Birthday" song.
The candles were blown out, though not, despite the Senator's best efforts, with a single breath, and, with that, the festivities, properly speaking, were felt to have drawn to a close. The guests settled contentedly back down on their chairs and benches, and resumed or initiated conversations, waiting patiently for Bridget's employees to deliver them their fair portion of cake and ice cream. Bonnie nudged Trev, and pointed across the lawn where Vanna and Steve, heaped dessert plates in hand, were receiving personal thanks from the Senator and Freya. "Vanna was really great, wasn't she? With a voice like that, it's a wonder she's not doing musical theater. And she can hoof it, too."
"A woman of many talents," Trev agreed.
"Did you notice she seemed to know all about the yearly after-dinner cruise? I wonder how she heard about it."
"No mystery there. I told her."
"You?"
Trev shrugged. "She was looking for ways to personalize the lyrics, so I let her pick my brain. Not that I'm taking any credit. She worked the whole thing out herself."
Bonnie turned and pretended to study him, her eyes narrowed in mock-suspicion. "First, the car-pool plot, and now, this… It seems you and Vanna have been putting your heads together quite a bit lately. Should I be jealous?"
His face flared with such a mix of wonder and delight that Bonnie immediately regretted teasing him. He recovered quickly, assuming an air of nonchalance and raillery. "You're still running unopposed. For the moment."
"All right, then," Bonnie said, somewhat lamely to her own ears. "Good to know." With some relief, she saw Bridget heading directly toward them, cake plates in hand. "Oh, look! They're finally getting around to us. I can't think how it's happened, but I'm ravenous again!"