“How are you this evening?” I inquired of my host.

“Absolutely tip-top,” Eagleton said. “So kind of you to join me for tonight’s little soiree.” He indicated one of the sofas. “Please, won’t you sit down? Can I offer you something to drink? Wine, scotch, a soft drink perhaps?”

“A glass of red wine would be fine.” I chose a spot at the end of the sofa next to a small table and made myself comfortable. “I hope I’m not too early.”

“Not at all, my dear chap, not at all.” Eagleton nodded briskly as he moved to the bar to pour my wine. “Punctuality seems to be a rare trait these days, but it is one I admire tremendously.” He brought me the wine, and I took a cautious sip.

I tried not to make a sour face, because the wine had a sour taste. I forced myself to smile as I swallowed because my host was watching intently for my reaction. “Nice,” I said as I put the wineglass down on the end table. I would have to find somewhere to dump the rest of it, because there was no way I was going to drink any more. I thought of Helen Louise and how appalled she would be. She despised bad wines, and this was one of the worst I’d ever had.

“Lovely.” Eagleton beamed as he went back to the bar, where he poured himself a tall glass of scotch—with no soda in sight. He downed about half of it in one long gulp, and he beamed even more widely when he came back to stand near the sofa. “There has been a change of plans, I regret to inform you, for this evening’s gathering.” Eagleton focused his gaze on a point behind me as he continued. “The confounded hotel mislaid my request—so terribly shoddy of them, don’t you think?—and informed me at the last minute that they would be unable to accommodate my dinner party. Thus I am unable to offer you and my other guests the repast that I had planned. I do beg your pardon most humbly.” He looked down at me again. “But I did manage to find some comestibles that I trust will be suitably tasty and nourishing.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” I offered a polite smile.

“Do help yourself.” Eagleton pointed to the dinner table on the other side of the room. “Ah, another guest at the door. Please excuse me.” He walked away.

Taking my wine, I got up and moved over to the table to survey the food on offer—the usual chips, dip, and cheese tray one could find at most supermarkets. There were paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils. Altogether a sad little array of party food.