I took William over to the wall of windows. Twilight was gathering outside and the huge room was reflected in the glass. For now, everyone stood in little clumps around the bar near the door, but a massive table was set next to where I was standing, by the windows. The steeply slanted walls were made of polished honey-colored wood with exposed beams throughout the room. At the back of the building doors led, presumably, to the kitchen and restrooms. The whole space was stark, undecorated, and, other than the bar and table, unfurnished. Sounds reverberated. I’d never seen anything sparkle so much as Lonnie’s diamond on my hand. I couldn’t help thinking it was probably worth a whole year of my salary.

Lonnie appeared behind me with two glasses of white wine. “You make a fantastic me already,” she said.

“So I wasn’t invited to the dinners?”

“Don’t be silly. Family is invited.”

I glared at her doubtfully. I felt that Lonnie, who’d never been looked down upon in her life, was failing to register the situation. “She’s old-fashioned,” I said. “The help can’t eat at the same table.”

Lonnie pushed the wine at me again and I took the glass, balancing William on my hip. “She’s about to bite the big one,” she said, leaning in close to my face, her breath already smelling like wine. William tried to grab her hair and she gently pushed his arm away. “She and everyone she knows will be dead soon. Just ignore her.”

That actually did make me feel better, to think of Tibby Walbridge as mostly dead, though it also made me wonder if Lonnie was using me for some secret purpose. If her friendship with me, her treating me like a normal person, was something of a rebellion for her. If bringing me here was like smoking in her camp cabin after lights-out.

William was starting to get antsy in my arms, twisting his body around, wanting to be put down. Lonnie looked at me, her face close to mine. She looked hurt that I was offended. Her lower lip hung innocently from her mouth, her eyes wide. It was still strange to be standing on the same level as her. She said softly, “None of these people matter. To me, or you.”

“I just feel uncomfortable,” I said.

“I want you to have a good time. I don’t want you to be stuck at that cabin by yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Lonnie took William back, propping him on her hip, and then placed her arm on the small of my back as we walked toward the bar. She was an affectionate person. She touched everyone when she spoke, but she’d never done that before, our hips rubbing together, my heels clicking in time with her steps against the polished floor.