“We’ve talked about this.”
“Stop grinning,” I said. “You’ll spill it.”
“Let me grin, Eleanor. I waited a long time for this!”
***
Margaret came by that Sunday with a casserole dish and a face like cold weather. Daniel followed two steps behind, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Mother used to set the table that way,” Margaret said, eyeing my linen runner. “Patricia. In case you forgot her name.”
“I didn’t know your mother, honey. But the runner can come right off if it bothers you.”
