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“An older Betty Crocker version,” Sloane said.

Karen’s eyebrows rose. “From what year?”

“Early nineteen-fifties, I think.”

“Cane syrup?”

“Yes.”

“Stone oven?”

“My apartment oven.”

Karen studied her.

Sloane remained calm.

Finally, Karen said, “The crust looks acceptable.” Then she walked away.

Sloane leaned toward me. “I feel deeply honored.”

Dinner began after Grandpa Alfonse took his place at the head of the table and Grandma Ruth delivered a speech covering his birth, childhood, leadership years, retirement, health, eating habits, and an incident involving a mayor’s goat that she claimed was historically misunderstood.

Grandpa listened without correcting her until she said he had been fourteen.

“Twelve,” he said.

Everyone in the room laughed.

Grandma waved a hand. “That’s not the important part.”

Sloane sat beside me, Patty across from her, with Caldwell on my other side. For the first few minutes, Sloane appeared cautious, aware of every person who glanced our way.

Then Caldwell handed her a folded piece of paper. She opened it under the table. His drawing showed the three of us sitting at dinner. Sloane and I held hands under the table in the picture, though our real hands rested separately beside our plates.

Her cheeks turned pink. She lowered the picture. “You’re an observant little guy, aren’t you?”

Caldwell grinned brightly.

I took her hand and shrugged. “The artist had a vision.”

Her fingers tightened around mine.

After dinner, Julie carried out the cakes while we all sang. Grandpa tolerated the attention with a small smile, then blew out the candles before Trevor could finish the unnecessary harmony.

Presents came next.

Grandpa received a hand-carved walking stick he would never use, a new hat identical to the one he already owned, several books, a framed family photograph, wool socks, homemade preserves, and a remote control with larger buttons.

He held the remote for a long moment. “I can actually see the buttons,” he said.

Grandma nodded. “Yes. Now I won’t have to change the channel or volume for you.”

He gave a thumbs-up.

Then the pie was served. Patty stood beside Sloane as Julie cut the first slice and placed it in front of Grandpa.

The room quieted. Well, not completely. Thirty people were incapable of complete silence unless Mom formally demanded it. Still, enough conversations paused that the pressure became noticeable.