Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Happy birthday,” she said.
“It sure is,” he agreed. “But then, every day is a gift.”
A man called, “Howie, we didn’t come all this way not to visit with you. Get over here.”
“My brothers,” Howie said, and she followed his gaze to where five older men were huddled together. “And my best friends. Guess I’d better say hi, especially since some of them have come a long way to be here tonight.”
He patted their shoulders, then headed off to where his brothers were gathered. Soon he was laughing, no doubt about old times growing up. “What a positive attitude your father has,” she said to Arch.
“He doesn’t just spout that stuff either—he really believes it.” She saw the affection in Archer’s gaze as his father joked with a neighbor. “He has high standards and expected all of us to work hard at school and life, but you’ll never find a man with a bigger heart.”
At a signal from Nick, Archer excused himself and left her side.
Betsy Davenport clapped her hands and immediately brought the room to attention. Tessa could see how very much she was respected by everyone, from her children to her friends. But it was the way Howie gazed at his wife that brought a lump to Tessa’s throat. To think of being married for that long and still have a man look at you like that. She sighed. Until now, she’d never believed love could last that long. The marriages she’d been exposed to hadn’t turned out so well.
Betsy spoke in a voice that commanded the room, which gave Tessa the notion that she was either a teacher or had been at some point. Behind her, Arch and Nick dragged out a large flat-screen television and some speakers. Howard was encouraged to sit in a chair in the middle of the room facing the speakers, while everybody at the party gathered around him and Buster curled at his feet.
Were they all going to be treated to old family movies? Tessa kind of hoped they would be. It would be fun to see how these Davenports had behaved and what they’d looked like when they were kids.
Instead, Betsy said, “All our children are here with us tonight, except Damien. He’s on tour with his band. But, Howie, he wanted you to know he’s thinking of you.” And then at her nod, the lights went out and the screen came to life.
Tessa knew who Damien Davenport was, of course. The whole world knew. A rock star, a pop idol—she’d heard him called both and wasn’t exactly sure which was the correct term.
On the screen, he stood there holding a guitar. He had the curly hair in common with Finn, and he’d also inherited the slightly darker good looks. But there was a devil in that smile. She wondered whether he’d grown into the name or whether his parents had named him Damien with a sneaking suspicion of what his future would be like. Not that he was a bad boy exactly, but he had trodden his own path, that was for sure.
Damien said, “Dad, I wish I could be there with you tonight. But the boys and I want you to know we’re thinking of you. I didn’t write this song—two men way smarter than me did. But this one’s for you.” And then he began to play, and behind him, his band struck up.
As the familiar tune filled the room, everyone began to laugh. Damien looked up as though he could hear them, and with a grin, he said, “You may not know all the words, but I bet all of you know the chorus. I’m hoping you’ll join in. If you don’t, you know my mom will make you.” And then they broke into The Beatles’s “When I’m Sixty-Four.”
Everybody loved it, but nobody more so than Howard. He clapped and laughed and sang along with the rest of them. And when it was over, Betsy said, “Now that you’re all warmed up, I hope you’ll keep on singing.” And in walked five of the six Davenport kids, holding a huge cake flaming with sixty-four candles.
Howard took a massive breath and managed to blow out most of them. He took a second breath to get the rest, and then somebody called, “Speech!”
Howard Davenport didn’t need to be asked twice. He stood and gazed at them all for a moment. “I look around me and wonder how I got to be sixty-four years old with so much to be thankful for. The road was never what I imagined it would be, but it was always right.” He glanced at his wife. “I’ve been a lucky man—luckier than most, I know. I grew up in a good family, and my five brothers are still my closest friends. But the biggest stroke of luck was meeting Betsy. She was a young professor at Stanford. I was called in to build her some bookshelves. I’ll never forget the sight of her, so young and so brilliant. And let’s not kid ourselves—she was extremely easy on the eyes.” There was a smattering of laughter, even some applause. He grinned at her. “Still is.”