Even the simplest interaction racked him with anxiety. He was always missing cues, it seemed. And yet Mercy loved him. He had never asked her why; he was afraid that if she reflected too deeply, she would realize her mistake. He just kept the thought close to his chest, and polished it and cherished it as he had since the day she had said yes to him: Mercy loves me.
* * *
—
Alice phoned. “So,” she said. “I hear you’re planning to throw an anniversary party.”
“Right,” he said. He nudged his bowl of chili away and sat back in his chair. Alice routinely called during his supper hour, five-ish, to keep him company while he ate. In fact Robin didn’t believe in doing two things at once, and so he always stopped eating until she said goodbye, but Alice didn’t know that.
“I would just like to say,” she told him, “that in my opinion, surprise parties are never, ever, under any condition whatsoever, a good idea.”
“Okay,” he said agreeably.
“So will you just tell Mom right now what it is you’re planning?”
“Oh, I think not, hon,” he said.
There was a pause at the other end of the line. No doubt she was rolling her eyes despairingly at Kevin.
“Also,” she said, “it’s really us who should be doing this. The three of us; your three offspring.”
“Well, that’s nice of you to offer,” he said. （Although she hadn’t, actually.） “But I’ve got this, thanks. I’ve got it all planned out.”
“Dad—”
“However!” he said brightly. “I did want to ask a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Could you phone David for me and make sure he comes? Twelve o’clock noon on Sunday week, the first of July. Tell him it really matters that they be here. You know best how to talk to him.”
“Well…but he may be tied up,” Alice said.
“Even if he is tied up! Tell him it’s important. Say they’re welcome to spend the night, if they like.”
“He’s not going to want to spend the night,” Alice said.
“Just try, though, hear? You’ve got a way with him.”
“Well…” she said. And then, “Okay.”
He allowed himself a little smile of self-congratulation.
“Now, about the menu,” she said.
“I’ve got the menu.”
“What? What are you serving?”
“It’s all, all under control,” he said soothingly.
“But I could make my—”
“I’ve got it. Thanks, hon. Bye.”
And he hung up and drew his chili bowl close again.
* * *
—
Everyone could come except the two Robbys. （Robby the Girl had a camp-counseling job in Rehoboth this summer. Robby the Boy was off in Spain with his college’s study-abroad program.） Even David and his family could come. Alice didn’t mention if she’d had any trouble persuading him, and Robin didn’t ask. She did say he’d declined to spend the night.
Robin hired his next-door neighbor’s cleaning lady to clean the house. It took her a full day, and that was just the downstairs. After that he was very careful not to let the place get cluttered again.
He ordered a cake from the supermarket, because he’d have had to be out of his mind to try baking his own, especially for Mercy. And he laid in all the groceries he’d need—simple stuff; his cooking skills weren’t up to much—and mowed the lawn and cut back the wisteria where it was taking over the porch.
Did people give each other gifts for their anniversaries? Yes, he was sure they did, although he and Mercy never had. But what would he give her? “Golden,” this one was called; that probably meant the gift should be made of gold. Mercy didn’t wear jewelry, though. Even her wedding ring, thin as a wire, generally lived in the soap dish on the back of the kitchen sink. Besides, she would not, of course, be giving him a gift, so why embarrass her? That was what he told himself.
“What is your plan?” Lily asked him, the Friday before the party. He had stopped by the store to say hello, but only briefly; he didn’t have a lot of time these days. “How can you be sure Mom’s going to be available for this?”
“Oh,” he said, “I’m going to wait till the actual day and then call her and say David is here.”
“David,” Lily said.
“I’ll phone her at the studio and say they just happened to stop by while they were heading someplace else and so why doesn’t she come over and say hello.”