Mrs. Sutton, who was as sleek and slim as a greyhound, wore an ivory sweater and a pair of pale beige pants, with pointed-toe copper-colored flats. Her hair fell in a glossy light brown sheet, just skimming her shoulders. Her watch and earrings were simple gold. Her makeup was subtle and flawless, setting off the glittering brown of her eyes and the pearly white of her teeth. Her smile was warm and welcoming. She was, in a word, tasteful.

Mr. Sutton looked a little less comfortable in his own skin but no less refined. His long-sleeved shirt was blue and crisp, and the hem of his gray trousers broke in just the right spot over his shining loafers. His hair was silvery brown, cropped close to his head, and he wore a smile that had a touch too much tension behind it to be perfectly sincere.

They were elegant in a casual, uncomplicated way—not like showy rich people from the city but like people so rich they don’t have to live in the city. Their money lived there, and they hired Mr. Albright to carry it back and forth for them.

“I’m sorry to surprise you,” Mrs. Sutton said, seeing what must have been a mortified expression on my face. Her voice was as smooth and polished as the rest of her. “We’ve been so looking forward to your arrival that we couldn’t bear to wait in the sitting room like a couple of posed dolls. We wanted to meet you right away . . . but now I can see that wasn’t very thoughtful of us.”

“Nonsense, Laura, she’s fine,” Mr. Albright said cheerily. Then, turning to me, he said, “Margaret, allow me to introduce you to John and Laura Sutton.”

“At your service,” Mrs. Sutton said, her smile more subdued.

There was silence as everyone waited for me to speak. I didn’t think I was going to be able to come up with anything, but when I opened my mouth, a few words tumbled out. “Thank you so much for having me,” I said. “It means a lot.”

To my horror, Mr. Sutton stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder. “For a very long time, I’ve wanted to repay the debt I owed your father. I’m glad to have a chance, and I’m sorry that it’s under these circumstances.”

I tried to think of a suitable response.

“Oh, John, now’s not the time for speechmaking,” Mrs. Sutton said, swooping over and swatting him away. “I’m sure Margaret wants a few minutes by herself before we descend on her.”

I did, desperately. But maybe their classiness was rubbing off on me, because it seemed impolite to go off alone so soon. “I’m okay,” I said. “Could I please maybe have a glass of water?”