I ate as they talked, and by the time the main dish arrived I was already full and mostly just pushed the food around on my plate with my fork. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by the sheer volume of food; when Angelina entered the room with a covered bowl of hot homemade breads, Marion held up one hand, delicately wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

“Angelina, please,” Marion said. “We’re about to explode here. How much more food is there tonight?”

The maid smiled, setting the bowl on the sideboard.

“I told Nick you would be yelling at me soon if he did not stop,” she said. “But you know how he is. When he is upset, he cooks. If I had not put my foot down, you would be getting three different desserts tonight, too.”

“Well, tell Nick to find some way to drown his sorrows other than spoiling us with food. We are a hunger relief organization, after all. How does he think it looks to our guest—children starving all over the world while we sit here with this feast?”

Judith caught my eye across the table and grinned sardonically. Obviously, her mother had taken my little lecture to heart.

“Yes, ma’am. I will tell him that is enough for now.”

Angelina ducked out as Marion reached out and put a hand on my arm.

“Wendell and our cook were very close, Callie. I’m sorry about this.”

“Oh, please, I—”

“I’m sure you noticed my husband was a very…ah…abundant man. Before his kidneys began to fail, his favorite part of the day was always the evening, eating these delicious meals, or sitting in the kitchen later with Nick, sharing some forbidden dessert and debating current events. That cursed diabetes! I’m afraid Wendell’s love of rich food may have proven to be the death of him after all.”

“We don’t know that for sure, Mom,” Judith corrected. “The police still haven’t released cause of death.”

I looked at my plate, surprised that they didn’t yet know the truth. Was the Philadelphia Police Department really that slow at getting the word out to the victim’s family?

“His death was imminent regardless,” Marion said miserably. “Only a matter of time. You know what a disaster his health was, especially here at the end.”

I held my tongue, thinking of the unseen intruder I had chased down the stairwell. Whether Wendell’s death was merely a matter of time or not, I thought, someone had helped speed things along just a bit.

“I suppose we should ask Nick to be a pallbearer,” Judith went on matter-of-factly. “Have you thought of the others?”

I was struck by the casualness of her tone, as if she were choosing the right scarf for her blouse rather than choosing the men who would carry her dead father to his grave.

“I’ve had a few thoughts,” Marion answered sadly, going on to discuss some tentative ideas for the funeral. I glanced at my watch, wondering if it would be impolite to excuse myself now that the discussion had turned in this direction. I certainly didn’t need to be involved with any of this, and I felt myself growing uncomfortable. Bryan’s funeral had been three long years before, but Wendell’s death was stirring up some very unsettling memories.