I set a heavy glass bowl of potato salad with fresh dill on the patio table.

The table was covered with a red checkered vinyl cloth, exactly the way my grandmother used to set it up for neighborhood parties.

Daniel stood by the brick barbecue pit wearing a crisp blue linen shirt.

He held a pair of steel tongs and laughed with our next-door neighbors, Tom and Sarah Miller.

He looked completely relaxed, playing the perfect suburban host while flipping burgers over the hot coals.

I watched him work the grill.