“No sign yet of Cruella de Vil, I take it?” Stewart snagged champagne from one of the waiters, a handsome young man of about twenty who offered Stewart an engaging grin along with the bubbly. Stewart winked and smiled back. The waiter lingered a moment, then moved on as Miss Dickce beckoned him.

“No Vera yet,” I said. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that she came down with something and is staying home.”

“No such luck.” Stewart downed half his champagne at one go. “Vera wouldn’t miss this, even if she had to drag herself out of her sickbed to get here. One of my former students.”

The abrupt change of subject threw me for a moment. “You mean the waiter.”

Stewart nodded. “Took my freshman chemistry course last year. Bright young man, but very flirtatious. Even if he weren’t a student, he’s much too young.” He sounded depressed.

“You’re so old, after all.” I couldn’t resist teasing him, because I had close to a decade on him.

“Ha, ha.” Stewart drained his glass and motioned the waiter back for another. “End-of-semester blues, I guess. Pay no attention to me. A few days of no papers to grade and no lectures to prepare, and I’ll be fine.”

“I’m looking forward to the holidays myself. We can all relax and stuff ourselves with good food.”

“And spend extra time in the gym to work off the million extra calories.” Stewart quirked an eyebrow at me. “The invitation still stands, Charlie. If you decide you want to join, I’ll be happy to help you get started on your workouts.”

He would have to choose this moment to remind me, I thought as I suppressed a grimace. Between Azalea’s Southern cooking and Helen Louise’s amazing desserts, I watched my waistline enlarging—almost on a daily basis, it seemed. The walking I did helped, but I had the sad suspicion it was not nearly enough.

“After the first of the year.” I suppressed a sigh. “I promise.” It was a necessary evil, and for the sake of my health, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Stewart said. “Trust me, you’ll feel better once you get into it.”

“And I’ll hold you to that.” I grimaced.

Further discussion of the merits of exercise would have to wait. Vera and Morty Cassity arrived, evidently in the middle of an argument.

“…and why you had to wear that damn big skirt I don’t know.” Morty’s deep voice cut easily through the hum of conversation. “I’ve nearly tripped on it five times already.”

“Then don’t walk so close. You are the clumsiest man alive.” Vera’s hissing response echoed through the sudden hush. Belatedly she appeared to notice that the rest of the room was silent, and her face colored to match the scarlet of her hoop skirt and bodice. Though she was decades too old, and had nothing close to a seventeen-inch waist, Vera had to be Scarlett O’Hara. Her wig mimicked Vivien Leigh’s hair, and the extravagant hat with its long velvet bow called to mind the one Miss Leigh wore in the film.