It has been a few years since we’ve had new fiction from David Gilbert, but that’s been the norm. It seems we get a new one every couple of years. I always enjoy them. Here is how “Come Softly to Me” starts.

Upstairs, the sisters prepared by putting on their dresses, while down in the yard everyone drank Mott’s apple juice and snacked on Ritz crackers squared with Cheddar. Afterward, they’d have a proper meal. Lily had brought six pies. Eleanor, pasta salad and lentils with sweet potatoes. Louise’s son Charlie would man the grill. There’d be enough to drink, that was for sure, and maybe something to smoke thanks to the dispensaries in nearby Great Barrington. Come night, Jasper, Lily’s grandson, would play guitar. And Lewis, the son of Benjamin, the sisters’ cousin, would light the bonfire, once his father’s job. Oh, Benjamin. He’d been cremated with his healing crystals still clenched in his hands. The bonfire nowadays was confined to the copper fire pit at Louise’s house, but they’d manage to get the flames up high. Then they’d shoot Roman candles and bottle rockets, brought by whoever had travelled from, or through, a firework state. Jasper would pick up his mandolin, and Philip, Lily’s son, would grab Jasper’s guitar, and Louise would sing, and then Lily would sing, and Eleanor would never sing but she might yowl and grab her crotch, and maybe this place would start to feel like the old place.

I know this is going up out of order, but if you’re interested in posting thoughts on this story, please always feel welcome!