Greta suddenly felt very underdressed in her black jeans, boots, and buffalo plaid flannel.

Muriel didn’t knock, simply stood quietly at the door, so Greta joined the back of the group. Precisely at seven, the door opened, revealing a grand entryway with gleaming pale pink marble floors, soft green walls edged in elaborate gold moldings, and a white marble table directly in the center that held the largest arrangement of flowers Greta had ever seen.

“Welcome, welcome,” boomed their host, a petite Black woman who appeared to be in her sixties or seventies and was wearing an equestrian-style outfit.

Muriel and the woman exchanged cheek kisses, and the greetings commenced. When their host had kissed the last cheek and murmured the final welcome, Muriel slid her elbow through Greta’s and walked her over.

“Camilla St. James, may I introduce my dear new friend, Greta Russakoff.”

“Welcome, dear. How do you do?”

“Hi, hello, thanks so much for having me, Ms. St. James. Um, sorry, I didn’t know this was a fancy occasion, so I didn’t dress up. Sorry. Your house is amazing.”

“Oh, it’s not fancy,” her host said with a rich laugh. “Just a few old friends getting together for some flower talk. And please, call me Camilla.”

“Okay, well, thank you for having me, Camilla.”

Camilla kissed her cheek and herded everyone through into a magnificent sitting room, wallpapered in a bold rose print against a black background. The furniture was a damask of the same print but with a pale yellow background, and a huge piano sat in the corner with a freestanding ashtray next to it, topped with fluted amber glass. A chandelier dripped crystals in the center of the molded plaster ceiling.

“Wow,” Greta couldn’t help muttering under her breath as they trooped through.

A thin, stooped man with a ring of white hair, wearing a blue linen suit that bagged at the shoulders and knees, turned to her. He had sharp blue eyes and wild eyebrows, and when he spoke, it was with an accent Greta couldn’t quite place.

“You should see her Christmas parties,” he said with a wink. “Trees up to here.”

He raised an arm to indicate height, but since he was a small man, the effect was comical. Greta smiled.

“When do the Christmas decorations go up?”

“December the fifteenth and not a minute sooner.”

It was December thirteenth. Greta raised her eyebrows, hoping she was conveying polite interest. She knew that people often had specific times that they put up or took down Christmas decorations, though she didn’t know why.

“I’m Marvin Kann.”

“Greta. Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, then followed everyone else through the house.