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Johnny Mathis hits before returning to singing more Broadway. By the time she was done, it was eight-thirty and time for a break.
    â€œFifteen minutes,” she told her audience, and turned off the mike to scattered applause.
    Dan was talking with the maître d’ in an alcove just beyond the dining room entrance. He gave her a thumbs-up when she approached. “You did good. He was in seventh heaven.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell me your uncle was coming,” she scolded.
    Dan glanced behind her. “I’m telling you now. Here he comes.”
    She turned with a wide smile. When the Cardinal gave her a hug, she hugged him back. No matter that the man was a church icon; he came from what he was the first to describe as a large family with an earthy style. It had taken Lily a while to get used to it, but the sheer innocence of his physicality was a delight.
    â€œThank you,” he said now.
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œFor playing my song. For playing all my songs. For playing last night—and for coming back with that music.” He grasped Dan’s shoulder. “Do you know what she did? After playing for three hours straight, she drove home and then all the way back with a book of music I wanted.” He told Lily, “I was up playing until two in the morning. It’s a wonderful collection.”
    â€œHow’s your table?” Dan asked.
    â€œGreat. Great food. Not what Mama used to make,”he hedged, winking at Lily, “but a close second.” He gave her arm a squeeze and returned to the dining room.
    Lily climbed the curved staircase to the third-floor ladies’ room. She came out just as the Post reporter was leaving the men’s room. He wore a blazer and slacks, and was tall, slim, and pleasant looking, but the mustache remained his most compelling feature.
    â€œYou have a wonderful voice,” he said.
    He had told her that before, twice at the club, once when he called her at home. Not that she had given him her phone number. It was unlisted. But the school directory had it. Terry had wheedled it out of Mitch Rellejik, a writer friend of his who moonlighted as faculty adviser to the school newspaper. Mitch had phoned her himself to tell her what a great guy Terry was.
    Lily wasn’t convinced. Reluctant to encourage conversation, she gave him a smile and a quiet thanks as she headed for the stairs.
    He kept pace. “You never disappoint. Whether it’s here or at parties, you’re good. Beautiful, too, but you must hear that all the time. By the way, you didn’t seem nervous.”
    Lily tucked away the “beautiful” part—which she did not hear all the time, and being human and female, rather liked—and said, “I do this for a living.”
    â€œI mean, playing for the Cardinal. He’s an important guy. Don’t you get a little shaky playing for him?”
    She chuckled. “Oh, no. He’s heard me play too many times for that.”
    â€œHuh. That’s right. I did hear that he likes music.”
    â€œHe doesn’t just like it. He’s good at it.”
    â€œSings? Plays instruments?”
    â€œBoth.”
    â€œA Renaissance man, then?”
    Wondering if he was being sarcastic, Lily stopped at the bottom of the stairs to search his face. “Actually, yes.”
    He smiled and held up his hands. “No offense meant. I’m as much a fan as the next guy. He fascinates me. I’ve never met a man of the cloth quite like him. He inspires piety.”
    Lily relaxed some. “Yes.”
    Terry narrowed an eye. “Half the women I know are in love with him. He’s a virile guy.”
    Lily was embarrassed even thinking about Fran Rossetti that way.
    â€œDon’t tell me you haven’t noticed?” he asked.
    â€œIn fact, I haven’t. He’s a priest.”
    â€œAnd you’re not even a little bit in love with him?”
    â€œOf course I am. I love him as