Larry Brody's "Live! From Paradise!"

As a result of my recent heart attack and quintuple bypass surgery, Gwen the Beautiful and I have gotten a place in Washington State closer to the rest of our family, along the body of water I think of now as Paradise Sound.

We spent our first night on the West Coast in Seattle, which meant we had our choice of great food and even greater company, Youngest Daughter Amber and Jeremiah the Rugged, who took us for something we’d never been able to get in the Ozarks.

Sushi. Fresh and tasty.

We love hanging with our daughter and sorta-son-in-law. They’re young, intelligent, talented, and, best of all, eager and excited about the myriad possibilities stretching out from this point in their lives.

We didn’t have them all to ourselves for very long, though. Not after I heard a familiar voice just a couple of feet away.

The last time I saw Pete the Wild Man was during the ’90s. He was one of the most in-demand composers in television, scoring three different hit shows and providing theme songs I’m sure many people remember.

Before that, Pete had been a guitarist with a major rock band and, after his over-indulgences became too much even in the days of rockers trashing hotel rooms, limos, and private jets, he’d become a successful session player in L.A.

That’s when he met Madeline. Maddy was an aspiring actress, one of what were known as “those girls,” beautiful young women who frequented all the right places in all the right ways.

What I remembered most about Maddy wasn’t her beauty but her intelligence. In an era where the Rocket to Stardom opened its hatch readily for well-shaped and agreeable ditzes, Maddy was a contrarian with a brain.

Instead of bending over backwards to be what the sugar daddies wanted, she stood her ground, and got what she wanted anyway.

Pete’s first words to me about her said it all. “Some people go along for the ride. Some live like chess players, planning strategy two or three moves ahead. But Maddy’s a general who sees not just the outcome of the battle but how both sides’ll come out of the occupation 20 years down the line.”

(Yep, Pete may have been an insane rocker, but that’s how he spoke.)

Kind of the way Maddy thought.

They were perfect for each other and knew it. Theirs was a love so true that it made Pete over into the hard-working, dedicated, go-to kinda guy with whom I loved working. Maddy changed too. No more cattle call auditions. No more clubbing. She was the Queen of the Mulholland Drive house Pete shared with her, and together they made it a magical retreat.

I’d always been sorry we’d lost touch, so there at the sushi place I was thrilled when I heard:

“Harry Connick Jr. tickets are going for how much? Are they insane? The promoter must be Canadian. Only a Canadian would think @$#ing Harry @$#ing Connick @$#ing Junior had soul.”

I knew that indignation well and leaned over to the speaker. “Hey, he’s got more than Michael Buble.”

“Michael Buble’s not fit to carry Connick’s toiletries—”

And then Pete got it. “Larry B! You survived!”

I can’t remember when I’ve felt a bigger hug. Pete and I held each other tightly. Then he was turning to Gwen, and I was looking at Maddy.

“Gwen!”

“Maddy!”

More hugs. Introductions to Amber and Jeremiah. Happiness all around.

It was a wonderful welcome to a new place. An evening of catching up and celebration. The best part was how clear it was that Pete and Maddy still loved each other like crazy, and how good that made the rest of us feel.

Finally, Pete and Maddy had to go. Pete stood up and went around to Maddy’s chair. He did more than give her his arm. Very carefully, he helped her to her feet and handed her a pair of canes that had been leaning against an empty table nearby.

Maddy secured the canes to her wrists, one at a time. The process seemed to exhaust her, but she just smiled and accepted our surprise. “M.S.,” she said. “Going on year 13 and I’m still mobile. Sometimes anyway.”

Six people exchanged kisses in various combinations. “You’ve got my number now,” Pete said. “If you don’t call after you’re settled in on Paradise Sound I’ll make the place look like the Hollywood Holiday Inn the morning they banned me.”

I watched as Pete slowly helped Maddy outside. Turned to Gwen and the kids. “I always thought of them as the world’s luckiest couple,” I said.

Gwen and Amber replied with the same words at the same time.

“They are,” they said.

Larry Brody is an author, veteran television writer and producer. He, his wife and their various animals divide their time between Marion County, Arkansas and Puget Sound. The other residents of Larry’s mythical Paradise reside entirely in his imagination and any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.