Always & Forever: Luther's Legacy

Mary Ida Vandross, his mother and the last surviving member of his nuclear family, is here (all three of his siblings and his father have died). She's 84 and perched on the edge of a leopard-print chair. "I did all my crying this morning," she says softly. "I wasn't sure if I could come. The sadness is just impossible to explain."

Lisa Fischer sang backup for Vandross for nearly 20 years and now tours with the Rolling Stones. She sits down, dazed by the personal memories that are on public display. "That Pac-Man machine back there. Luther was really into Pac-Man. He carried it with us on tour. The number of nights I sat at that machine, wearing a robe, talking to Luther, I just can't count."

Some of the things for sale would put Liberace to shame, some of it is classy beyond compare, some of it just makes you scratch your head. Here: Lalique sconces, a Flora Danica polychrome and parcel-gilt dinnerware set, Puiforcat display dishes. There: Purple Gucci snakeskin pants, Versace cheetah-print wool pants, a Tony Chase dyed fox rhinestone-decorated wrap.

Szadek, Vandross's assistant, is showing us around these and other highlights, and we ask politely if the red fur pony-skin cargo pants were stage apparel.

"Oh no, he would wear those anywhere. He was not for saving the fine china for a special occasion."

It's getting close to closing when we bump into fan Anita Williams of Randolph, N.J. She's looking at a belt for her hubby, Roger, or maybe that ottoman out front for the house. She offers that she loves Luther so much that "my husband and I got married off a Luther song."

We ask which one. She is smiling and excited and so flustered that she can't quite remember.

"Hold on."

She whips out a cellphone, waits, says into it, "Put your father on right away."

Pause.

"Hey. Baby, what was that Luther Vandross song we got married to? That they played at the ceremony?"

Pause.

"Never mind why I'm asking, what was it?"

Pause.

"You don't remember? It was our wedding."

Pause.

"What do you mean, you're going to call somebody?"

She hangs up, a little sheepish. "I can't even believe this. Seventeen years. Neither of us can remember."

We offer to help. " 'Power of Love'?"

"No, no. It was a slow thing."

" 'Here and Now'?"

"THAT'S IT!"

And Anita Williams is very happy again, remembering her wedding, the darkness falling, and the memories of Luther Ronzoni Vandross all around. On a cold night in December, it is a good place to be.