Ivan had spent the week talking about the party as though he were preparing a major company event.
He selected the steaks, ordered expensive bottles of wine, and told me exactly how the patio tables should be arranged.
Then, when Saturday arrived, he put on a clean shirt, opened a beer, and left every actual task to me.
I had been outside since noon in ninety-degree heat.
I carried coolers across the yard, arranged serving trays, sliced vegetables, mixed sauce, filled bowls with ice, and checked the grill while guests wandered through the gate.
By the time the first steaks went down, sweat had soaked the back of my shirt beneath my apron.
No one asked whether I wanted to sit.
No one offered to take the tongs.
A few people complimented the food, but they did it the way they complimented the landscaping or the polished stone around the pool.
