When Murf had walked into the dining room and saw that he was sitting between a Nigerian princess and a pair of runway models, he turned to Vronsky and said, “After tonight you should kill me, so I can die a happy man.”

“I’m the one who’s happy,” Vronsky replied. “Really pumped we got back in touch.”

“I wish I could take all the credit, but I have a feeling the real reason you’re so stoked just entered the room.” Murf lowered his voice as Anna K. glided toward them.

Anna’s eyes grew wide at the sight of Murf and she hurried over to hug him. Vronsky couldn’t help but feel a mild twinge of jealousy seeing her in another guy’s arms, even though he knew it was nothing more than a friendly embrace. “You know my boy Vronsky, I assume,” Murf said, detaching from Anna’s hug.

Anna smiled at her blue-eyed suitor. “I believe we’ve met once or twice.”

“How do you do?” Vronsky asked formally and made a show of taking her hand and placing a delicate kiss on it as he bowed.

Murf chuckled to himself. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go elucidate my tablemates as to the myriad counterintuitive benefits of polyamory. Yeah, Mr. S. got me one of those word-a-day vocab calendars.”

Anna and Vronsky both laughed as Murf strutted off.

“So, how do you know Murf?” she asked.

“He was a power hitter shortstop when I played first base for the Greenwich Blue Jays,” Vronsky told her. “When we were seven years old. We lost touch for a long time, but recently reconnected.”

“Do you know he works at Staugas Farms?”

“Yes, I think I may have heard that…”

Anna subdued her excitement, as now she knew for certain that the boy on the motorcycle had been him, but before she could respond, a bell sounded and Beatrice called out, “Dinner, my darling dearhearts, is served!”