Frowning, Willy Meehan sat at the piano his wife, Alvirah, had bought him for his sixty-second birthday. With intense concentration, he attempted to read the notes in the John Thompson’s Book for Mature Beginners. Maybe it will be easier if I sing along, he thought. “Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,” he began.

Willy has such a good voice, Alvirah thought, as she came into the room. “All Through the Night” is one of my favorite carols, she reflected, as she looked affectionately at her husband of more than forty years. In profile, his resemblance to the late Tip O’Neill, the legendary Speaker of the House of Representatives, was even more startling than when viewed full on, she decided. With his shock of white hair, his craggy features, his keen blue eyes and warm smile, Willy was often the recipient of startled glances of recognition, even though it was several years since O’Neill’s passing.

Now, to her loving eyes, he looked simply splendid in the dark blue suit he’d worn out of respect for Bessie Durkin Maher, whose wake they were about to attend. Alvirah had reluctantly switched from the size twelve navy suit she’d been planning to wear to a black dress that was a size larger. She and Willy had just returned the previous evening from their post-Thanksgiving cruise in the Caribbean, and the sumptuous food had dealt a mortal blow to her diet.

“Guardian angels God will send thee,” Willy sang as he played.

The dear Lord God sure did send his angels to us, Alvirah thought as-not wanting to disturb Willy-she tiptoed to the window to enjoy the breathtaking view of Central Park.