purplish-green spot swimming in front of his eyes, he needed a moment to see how jammed with people the living room was. He'd expected Nicole and Leonard and little Lucien, and they were there, but so were Denise and Charles and Georges and Susanne and Jeanne and their spouses and their children. And, he realized after another startled heartbeat, so was Йloise Granche.
'Surprise!' they all shouted again, even louder than before. Nicole wriggled through the crowd and kissed Galtier on the cheek. 'Happy birthday, cher papa!' Her husband raised the camera again. Another flashbulb froze the moment.
Lucien was at least partly braced for the second blast of light. He wagged a finger at his offspring. 'You are a pack of devils, every one of you,' he said. 'You did your best to make this the last surprise I would ever have, this side of the Pearly Gates.' He mimed clutching his breast and falling over dead.
His children and grandchildren laughed and cheered. Йloise Granche said, 'If they are a pack of devils, where do you suppose they get it?' That brought more laughter yet. Йloise rose from the sofa and threaded her way past children and out to Lucien. As Nicole had, she said, 'Happy birthday,' and kissed Galtier. Leonard O'Doull took yet another photograph.
'Well, well,' Lucien said. 'I suspect you have all been plotting this for a very long time.'
'Oh, no, Papa.' Georges shook his head. 'Your American son-in-law drove round to our houses a couple of hours ago, and since we weren't doing anything special tonight…'
'Nonsense,' Galtier said. If there hadn't been so many women and children there, he would have said something more colorful than that. But nonsense would do. His younger son's head had always been full of it. Most of the grownups had glasses close by them, some full, some empty. Plaintively, Galtier asked, 'Could it be that I might get something to drink?'
'Well, seeing that it is your birthday,' Leonard O'Doull said with the air of a man granting a great concession. 'And it could also be that I should prescribe something for that green-around-the-gills look you have. Would you like whiskey or apple brandy?'
'Yes,' Galtier said: a reply worthy of Georges.
His son-in-law made a face at him. 'Which, you cantankerous creature?'
'Apple brandy, by choice,' Lucien answered. He would drink whiskey readily enough, but he wasn't wild about it. He turned to Йloise. 'And what are you doing here?'
'Why, wishing you a happy birthday, of course,' she answered demurely. 'I hope it is a happy birthday?'
'It seems to be, so far,' he answered; coming right out and admitting he was happy struck him as a show of weakness. He turned to Leonard O'Doull. 'You see? You have been listening to gossip again.'
'And what if I have?' O'Doull replied. 'Are you complaining?'
'Me? Not at all. I am glad I am here. I am glad everyone is here,' Galtier said. 'And I do mean everyone.' He smiled at Йloise. He wanted to kiss her again, but he wouldn't do that, not in front of his children and grandchildren. They might-most of the ones old enough to understand surely did-know he and Йloise were more than friends, but there was a difference between knowing and showing. One little kiss had been all right. Two would have been excessive. The difference mattered to him. That it might matter much less to his offspring never once crossed his mind.
Nicole disappeared into the kitchen. When she came out, it was with some of the most arresting words in any language: 'Supper's ready!'
Fried chicken, lamb fragrant with garlic, rabbits stewed with plums, fresh spinach and peas, stewed turnips, endless snowy mounds of mashed potatoes, plenty of whiskey and applejack and beer to wash them down… Any man who couldn't be happy after a feast like that wasn't trying hard enough. Lucien ate till he wanted to curl up on his chair and go to sleep. Nor was he the only one who went above and beyond the call of duty; Georges could easily have built a whole new chicken from the mound of bones on his plate.
Everyone groaned with horrified pleasure when Nicole brought out an enormous birthday cake. A single large candle topped it. Leonard O'Doull grinned evilly at Lucien. 'We did not want to put a candle for each year,' he said, 'for fear you would burn the house down when you tried to blow them out.'
'An old man hasn't got enough wind to blow out that many candles anyhow,' Georges put in.
'I gave you the strap when you were little,' Lucien told his younger son, 'but not enough of it, I see. Well, le bon Dieu is still listening. I did not know 'Dishonor thy father and mother' was one of the commandments.'
'Don't be silly. I wouldn't think of saying a word against maman.' Georges' face was the picture of innocence. Galtier snorted.
Charles struck a match and lit the candle. 'Blow it out, Papa, so we can eat the cake,' he said sensibly. Unlike Georges, he had no wildness in him, but he made a good, solid man.
Blow it out Lucien did. Everybody cheered. Nicole cut the cake. She gave her father the first piece. He had no idea how he found room for it, but he did. His children and their spouses groaned as they ate. His grandchildren might have been a swarm of locusts. Lucien marveled that they left any of the cake undevoured.
'Now,' Nicole said briskly, 'presents.'
Galtier tried to wave them away. 'That I am here with my family is enough-more than enough,' he said. Nobody listened to him. He hadn't thought anyone would. Now that he'd made the protest, he could enjoy his gifts and not be thought greedy.
From Charles, he got a soft tweed jacket better suited to a gentleman of leisure than to a working farmer. That was how it seemed to him, anyhow. But Йloise said, 'It's perfect to wear to a dance.' He hadn't thought of that. Once she said it, though, he saw she was right.
Georges gave him a fancy pipe and some even fancier tobacco. When he opened the tin, the rich fragrance filled the room. 'Calisse,' he said reverently. 'That smells so good, I won't even have to smoke it… And what's this?'
This came from Nicole and Leonard O'Doull. It was a big bottle of real Calvados, not the imitations turned out by local craftsmen who didn't care for the Republic of Quebec's tedious excise-tax regulations. ' 'This fine brandy is patronized by his Majesty, King Charles XI, King of France,' ' Galtier read from the label.
'Mais certainement,' his son-in-law said. 'I personally wrestled this very bottle from King Charles' own hands.'
'You certainly are a muttonhead,' Lucien said.
Йloise Granche gave him a maroon wool sweater. Everyone said it was very handsome. Again, Lucien thought it finer than what he usually wore, but it was thick and warm. It would do nicely in spring and fall and, under a coat, in wintertime, too. 'I hope you like it,' Йloise said.
'I do, very much,' he said. 'It is always pleasant when a friend thinks of me.' He spoke with a straight face. Йloise nodded. So did Galtier's children and their spouses. Most of his grandchildren were too young to care one way or the other. Decorum was preserved.
Later, when he was carrying booty out to the Chevrolet, Йloise said, 'Could you give me a ride back to my house, cher Lucien? I would not care to impose on Dr. O'Doull to drive me both ways.'
'It would be no trouble at all,' Leonard O'Doull said politely.
'No, no, don't put yourself to the trouble,' Galtier said. 'Everyone has done so much for me today. It would be my pleasure to do this.' His son-in-law let himself be persuaded.
'I hope you had a happy birthday,' Йloise said as they rolled out of Riviиre-du-Loup and into the countryside.
'Very happy.' Now Lucien could admit it. He chuckled. 'I have not had a surprise party since I was eight years old.'
When they pulled up in front of her house, she smiled and asked, 'And is there anything else you might like for your birthday?'
'It could be,' he said. 'Yes, it could be.' They went inside together.
Except from the roof of the U.S. embassy, the Stars and Stripes had not flown in Richmond for almost eighty years. Only a handful of ancient men and women remembered the days when Virginia was one of the United States. Now, though, as Jake Featherston waited in the June heat inside the railroad station to receive the special train southbound from Washington, U.S. and C.S. flags flew side by side throughout the Confederate capital. No president of the United States had ever made an official visit to Richmond… till now.
Featherston wore the uniform of a Freedom Party guard, almost identical in cut and color to that of the
