J UST BEFORE SHOOTING WAS SET to commence, Harry turned fortyfive. He said he didn’t want a big night out or any sort of formal plans. He just wanted a nice day with all of us. So John, Celia, and I planned a picnic in the park. Luisa packed us lunch. Celia made sangria. John went down to the sporting-goods store and got us an extra-large umbrella to shade us from not only the sun but also passersby. On the way home, he got the bright idea to buy us wigs and sunglasses, too. That afternoon, the three of us told Harry we had a surprise for him, and we led him into the park, Connor riding on his back. She loved to be strapped to him. She would laugh as he bounced her while he walked. I took his hand and dragged him with us. “Where are we going?” he said. “Someone at least give me a hint.” “Tll give you a small one,” Celia said as we were crossing Fifth Avenue. “No,” John said, shaking his head. “No hints. He’s too good with hints. It takes all the fun out of it.” “Connor, where is everyone taking Daddy?” Harry said. I watched as Connor laughed at the sound of her name. When Celia walked through the entrance to the park, not even a block from our apartment, Harry spotted the blanket already set out with the umbrella and the picnic baskets, and he smiled. “A picnic?” he said. “Simple family picnic. Just the five of us,” I said. Harry smiled. He closed his eyes for a moment. As if he’d reached heaven. “Absolutely perfect,” he said. “I made the sangria,” Celia said. “Luisa made the food, obviously.” “Obviously,” Harry said, laughing. “And John got the umbrella.” John bent down and grabbed the wigs. “And these.” He handed me a curly black one and gave Celia a short blond one. Harry took a red one. And John put on the long brown one that made