"All right, folks," Laura said. "Let's tuck in, huh?"

The house filled with laughter and song, the thud of children's feet as they chased each other room to room, the clink of cutlery on tableware and pockets of idle chatter.

Sinjin's voice was loudest of all, commanding the attention of anyone within shouting distance, his funny-sounding laughs causing others to laugh along with him. He was the life of the party. Martin found it difficult not to warm up to him. He was just so full of joy that it spread to everyone around him.

His wife was full of love, enough to go around. She'd hugged and kissed everyone as they arrived, friends and strangers alike, despite the girth of her pregnant belly. She welcomed them into her home, shoes on, shoes off, offered drinks, something to snack on. She was extremely organized and yet slightly scatterbrained during conversations, often half-attentive to the gigantic meal she'd been preparing in the kitchen.

Now that she could let her hair down, she ate for two or more, fawned over someone's crying baby, and spent a few minutes sitting down with each couple, making sure they were comfortable, that they had enough to eat, if they had a designated driver, etcetera.

Martin and Sheila sat on the stairs, not talking much except to comment on the quality of food, looking in at these people through the living room doorway. It was so unlike anything they were used to in the city it was almost like watching the occupants of a strange new planet through a dimensional portal.

No pretentions. No cattiness. No politics. Just friends enjoying the company of one another, the alcohol, the food.

My God, the food, he thought. If this was what it meant to feast in the Bay, he could easily see a return visit in his future.

"You know, I almost said no to this," he said, turning to Sheila. He licked salted butter and a corn kernel off his palm.

"God forbid." Sheila sucked on the end of a crab leg. "We never did get to talk about your friend."

"What friend?"

She blinked at him. "The woman from the bookstore. The one who died last night?"

He scowled, glancing around to see if anyone had heard. Those who might be in earshot were entangled in rapturous conversation and good cheer. "Later, huh? On the way back."

Sheila eyed him. He could tell she knew he was trying to put it off. But now really wasn't the time. She knew that too. They ate in silence for a moment, until a small voice from above shook them from their thoughts.

"Excuse me."

A little girl of about six or seven with long blonde curls and a smile almost too big for her face stood halfway down the steps. They scooched to either side of the stairwell to let her through, and the girl trundled down the last few steps and ran into the living room to grip the hand of her mother.