There were shouts and screams, and a few women crying, and then a hush came over the room as the group formed a circle formed the two men.

"But you wouldn't do that, would you? Play a polka for Mickey," Zimmer snarled in a low, insinuating voice. He edged closer. "Your mother hated the old man, complained about him night and day, the poor old bugger. So you have to hate him, too? Don't you see that he's suffering every time he takes his clothes off. You, you--"

Devlin Doyle had come running up beside Gordon. Now he threw himself between the two men. "Zim, hey, cut it out, Zimmer. Let the guy play, for Christ's sake. It's a party. What the hell's the matter with you? C'mon!"

Once Zimmer's tirade was silenced, his cane fell downward and clattered to the floor. Ponyee jumped to pick it up and hand it back, while Richard drooped on the bench, his head pressed against the music shelf, trembling hands smashing the keyboard in discord once again. You could hear his sobs across the room. Then the crying stopped, and everything in room went still as melting ice.

Becker's withdrawn emotion seemed to energize him and, again, he half-rose. "You!" Becker finally managed to get the words out, though by now Zimmer was ten feet away, led by Devlin. "You're the one who hated my mother. It must have been you, you who…"

Hobbling, Ada dashed around Richard and hugged him to her chest before he could continue with the obvious accusation. "No, no, Richard, don't."

People edged away, silent and jittery, and I finally got past the foray.

When at last I reached Nonna Rose and her handsome white-haired partner, my mother-in-law had a mouthful of Smarties puffing out her cheeks, and the old man had somehow squeezed out of the upper part of his jumpsuit. It sagged around his hips and was on the descent, while the two of them, oblivious, danced on to their own unheard music.
It was life as usual at the Golden Age Haven.