Chapter 7

      After a single glass of bubbly, the rare-drinking Faye was more relaxed and ready to mingle. She walked to one of the buffet stations, fixed a plate and was soon seated at a table that included a couple from England, two BFFs from Nebraska, a father and daughter celebrating her birthday and a businessman from Texas, complete with Stetson, boots and spurs. All the people at the table were friendly and their talkative natures made her feel comfortable. She’d just savored a spoonful of succulent gumbo when a man bearing a resemblance to Dexter spoke into the microphone.

      “Good afternoon, everyone!”

      His father perhaps? Faye placed down her spoon and listened.

      “My name is David Drake Jr. I want to thank all of you for coming here today to celebrate the birthday of this resort’s founder, my father, David Drake Sr. Today, he turns one-hundred years old!” The partygoers cheered and applauded. “As any of you who’ve had the pleasure of meeting him can imagine, the stories are many, the history vast. A detailed biography is included in the programs placed at each table setting and also available in the hotel lobby. For now, please enjoy this short documentary highlighting some of the rich and colorful history of this amazing man.

      “As the film plays, the waitstaff will deliver glasses of champagne to every table. Please refrain from drinking them until the end of the film, where we will toast the man known fondly as...Papa Dee.”

      Along with the other almost five-hundred guests, Faye watched in part amazement, part amusement as the story of the life of Papa Dee unfolded in the seven-minute film. The family had managed to retain impeccably preserved pictures of Papa Dee during various stages of his life: from the twelve-year-old standing between his maternal French grandparents to the twenty-five-year-old standing with his first wife. Narrated by family members, the documentary blended history with humor and offered a snapshot into what the viewers concluded was a diverse and interesting life. As she watched the film, Faye also snuck peaks at the family Papa Dee built, the ones she knew. Dexter sat next to his great-grandfather, seeming to keep up a running dialogue as they both watched the film. At times, the older man chuckled. At others, he’d lean over to whisper into an attentive Dexter’s ear. Faye found herself wishing she were a whisker on Papa’s aged chin just to hear what transpired during those obviously treasured moments. Smiling at the tableau before her, she was totally caught off guard when Dexter looked up and caught her staring. Busted! She slid her eyes away from the pair, but not before noticing Dexter laugh at something the old man said, head thrown back, pearly whites sparkling, arm reaching across the chair to hug Papa Dee’s slightly bent shoulders. What does that feel like, she wondered, to have a family that is so successful, and so close?

      Faye wouldn’t know. Not really, anyway. There were fond memories scattered here and there: a Christmas at SeaWorld in San Diego; Thanksgiving with her father’s parents when she was seven. Her paternal grandparents lived on a farm in Tennessee. It was the first time she’d seen cows, chickens and pigs up close. But her father was a military man, army, gone from home a lot. During their many moves she gained a love for reading but made few friends. Her mother, an outgoing woman whose big personality often overshadowed her daughter, seemed content to leave Faye to her own devices while she either worked toward her BS in business management or socialized with the other wives, usually around a card game or television show. When she was eleven years old, her world got flipped upside down. The family moved to Saint Louis, Faye discovered a love for medicine and her life forever changed. Looking at Dexter’s sister, Diamond, leaning against a tall, handsome man whom Faye presumed was her husband, along with a group of about ten other people Faye imagined were part of the Drake family, Faye felt an unfamiliar pang of longing for family...and for love.

      The cheering crowd brought Faye out of her reverie, and belatedly she realized she’d missed the last part of the film. What she couldn’t miss was six feet two inches of delectable goodness rising from his seat to take the mike.

      “Hello, everyone. My name is Dexter, a fifth-generation Drake and the vintner here at Drake Wines Resort and Spa. In other words, under the watchful eye of the man we’re celebrating, I developed the bubbly we’re about to sip right now.” He raised the flute in his hand to their laughter and applause. “And now, a few words from the man who taught me everything I know, the man of the hour...David ‘Papa Dee’ Drake!” Everyone clapped again and turned their attention to Papa Dee.

      When he stood, Faye noted that even with bent shoulders he stood tall. Had to have been six one, six two in his heyday. She realized that he and Dexter had the same eyes and nose. She also realized that she was spending way too much time analyzing all things Dexter Drake. Here it was almost six o’clock in the afternoon and she hadn’t thought about the clinic she was building or Haitian Heartbeats all day!

      As one by one people rose to their feet, Papa Dee stood before the crowd with teary eyes. “Papa Dee Drake! Papa Dee Drake!” they chanted, and Faye joined in. Papa Dee waved his hands to quiet the crowd. “I appreciate all of the love that y’all are showing me. It’s true I’m no longer a spring chicken. But I’m not a cooked goose either!” The audience roared. “Thank you!”

      Papa Dee sat, and another man stood up and addressed the crowd. “My name is Donald Drake, president and chief operating officer of the resort and proud grandson of David Drake Sr. Everyone, please, let’s sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Papa Dee and then raise our glasses in a unanimous toast!”

      The song was sung, the toast was made and soon the covered patio was filled with those dancing to some of Papa Dee’s favorite songs. Dexter was the first one out on the dance floor, twirling a vivacious Latina to a fast-paced “Minnie the Moocher.” It wasn’t long, however, before a Tyra look-alike tapped Ms. Latina on the shoulder. Dexter didn’t miss a beat as the “Moocher” segued into “A Tisket, A Tasket.” They kicked and stomped and step-ball-changed across the dance floor before he spun her away with one arm and pulled in his sister with the other. The siblings took a trip on the A train, and when they stopped the band had gone from the forties to the fifties without missing a beat.