“Christina!” Wink ran across the room to hug Christina. She wore a flouncy rainbow-colored party dress.

“You look so pretty!” Christina told Wink.

“You do, too.” Wink held her hand and led her to a sofa.

“Hello, Christina.” Delia wore white wool trousers and a white cashmere sweater.

“Christina.” Andy nodded to her, smiling as if they shared a secret. He wore a navy blue sweater over his button-down shirt and tie.

What a bunch of stiffs! Christina thought.

“We’re having prosecco,” Delia said. “Except for Father, who’s having Scotch. What would you like?”

“I’d like some prosecco, please.” Uh-oh, Christina thought. I’m turning into wood just like them! Turning to Andy, she asked, “Did you have a good flight from New York?”

“It was bumpy,” Andy told her. “I think the weather’s changing.”

Fortunately, that launched the group into a discussion about weather, which Christina thought would be a peaceful topic, and it was, until Wink announced that her former teacher was worried about global warming and climate change. Christina kept quiet, but watched with interest and admiration as Wink politely argued with her grandfather.

Christina studied Oscar Bittlesman. He was sixty-five (she’d googled) but looked a decade younger. He was slender and fit, and Christina clearly saw where his children and granddaughter got their looks. His blond hair had turned white. He kept it in a brush cut as if he was still in the military. (He’d been in the Marines; she’d googled.) When Andy or Delia quoted a fact about melting icebergs, Oscar waved it away. Poppycock!

Christina didn’t know people even said poppycock these days. But when Wink quoted a fact, her grandfather listened and grudgingly said he was sure that was incorrect but he’d check it out.

Janice arrived to announce that dinner was ready. Following Oscar, they filed into the dining room, a large formal room with a seascape painted on the four walls. The table was beautifully set. Fresh flowers and candles in the middle. Shining silver utensils. White tablecloth and napkins. China plates in a pale green lavishly decorated with gold—Christina would have hung them on the wall.

“It’s a simple family dinner tonight,” Delia told her. “We won’t have an appetizer.”

“It smells divine,” Christina told her.

The simple family dinner consisted of petite filet mignons for the women, much larger ones for the men, twice-baked potatoes, asparagus, and a small green salad. A red wine was served to everyone except Wink, who had milk. Everything was cooked to perfection, and everyone was glad to allow Wink to dominate the conversation so the rest of them could concentrate on the food.

Then Janice removed the plates. Oscar Bittlesman leaned back in his chair, patted his mouth with his stiff white linen napkin, and cleared his throat.

“You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you, Cheryl?”