hominess of the kitchen table to the stiff formality of the dining room. The turquoise chiffon concoction she wore tonight was thirty years out of date but hugged her petite and slender figure as perfectly as the day it was made for her.
"Nicholas, we've been so worried about you! Maurice said he heard you come in and leave in a hurry this morning. And now this! You never cease to amaze me!" She greeted him with a peck on the cheek then extended a hand to Trissa. "And you, you tiny creature, how could you marry this man and break all our hearts? Why Nicholas, she's like a fairy's gift. And you both look like you had to fight tooth and nail to win the fair maid."
"We had an accident," Nicholas said. He released Trissa so that Augusta could inspect her and escort her to the table. "We spent the night at the hospital."
"Oh, my dear, what a honeymoon! But things will be better now, Augusta will see to that." She gave Nicholas a little push toward the counter. "Set yourselves a place. You look famished. Trissa, honey, let me introduce the rest of our guests."
Nicholas found the plates and utensils he needed and stacked both settings at his own place waiting for a cue from Augusta. He watched as she wisely began her introductions with the disgruntled Hattie. "This is Harriet Kenyon. Hattie teaches medieval English literature at St. Louis University."
"How do you do?" Trissa's voice was soft and she offered a brief smile as Hattie turned her stern, square face in her direction.
"Don't be afraid of Hattie, Trissa. She only looks like she would pinch your head off. It comes from reading Beowulf once too often."
Hattie's mouth popped open as if she meant to protest but then bent itself into a mechanical smile said only, "That's right, dear."
"And this is Jack Sanders who is a precinct worker for the Democratic Party in the city of St. Louis, which is to say no one knows just what he does but he sees to it that it gets done for all the right people. Jack was the one who brought Nicholas to us when we had need of one another."
Jack stood and kissed Trissa's hand. "Trust Nicholas to keep the best secrets."
Trissa's cheeks pinkened as she thanked him.
Rounding the head of the table toward the honored position at her right, Augusta introduced Roger Thane as her concierge and Nicholas smiled at the title. Roger's main duties were as Augusta's handyman and lover. His burly build and rugged good looks disguised the fragility of his health. Lung and heart damage from smoke inhalation had forced him to leave the fire department. Nicholas admired the unique blend of coddling and encouragement Augusta exercised on Roger, who still resented his compulsory retirement. She ruffled his hair affectionately as she said, "If ever you need anything and I'm not around, Roger can take care of you."
Roger stood and swallowed Trissa in a bear hug. "Just what we needed at this table, another pretty face!"
"Roger, you'll suffocate the poor thing." Augusta tugged Trissa on to Beverly Hartenstein. "Beverly is a grief consultant."
"A grief consultant? I've never heard of that," admitted Trissa.
"She's a mortician," interjected Hattie.
"I am not! I hate that word," sniffed Beverly. "I counsel people at their hour of greatest need. It is a helping profession."
"She used to be a meter maid," yawned Hattie. "That was a great help to people too. At the hour when their greatest need was a quarter for the meter."
"We don't always snipe at each other like this, Trissa," Augusta said with a sharp look at Hattie. "Nicholas, for heaven's sake, don't just stand there. Beverly and May won't mind scooting down a bit to make room for Trissa. Get a chair from the basement."
As he headed through the butler's pantry for the basement, Nicholas heard May Lassiter and her lilting, bubbly giggle as Augusta paid her some compliment he did not catch. May taught piano and voice and had a speaking voice as musical as her singing.
By the time he returned from the cellar with a chair and a package hastily wrapped in yellowed newspaper, Trissa was seated in his old chair. Augusta mounded her plate with food: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, beets, and hot rolls and butter. Roger tore more lettuce and chopped more celery to replenish the depleted salad bowl for her, and Maurice brought her some milk fresh from the refrigerator. Mocking his occupation as