a wine steward, Maurice playfully tasted the milk from the sommelier's cup he had hung around his neck, swishing it around in his mouth with a comical expression of sublime satisfaction, and pronounced it worthy before serving it up in a sparkling crystal tumbler. Trissa basked in all the attention. She looked as contented as a well-tended baby bird in a nest.
Nicholas wet a rag, dusted off his new chair, and shoved it up to the table. He whispered something in Augusta's ear and she nodded and beckoned him toward the dining room. They returned with crystal wine glasses for all, and Nicholas unwrapped his package from the cellar, showed the dusty wine bottle to Augusta for her approval, then uncorked and decanted the wine.
"Roger, I think it would be appropriate for you to call the toast," Augusta prompted.
Roger raised his glass and made a slight bow toward the couple. "To the bride and groom! May they live long and love wisely!"
"Here, here," said Maurice and like little bells came the tinkling of nine glasses. Nicholas showed Trissa how they could sip with arms linked and watched her as her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed pink. As a second toast was raised around them, he tilted her chin up and tasted the wine still moist on her lips. She caught her breath and closed her eyes and the kiss became as sweet as he knew it would be.
"Now, eat, you two lovebirds," urged Roger. "And tell us, Nicholas, is this what's been keeping you out 'til all hours every night?"
Nicholas glanced warily at Trissa but May was whispering and giggling in her ear. She hadn't heard Roger's question. He didn't know how he'd explain the answer to her. "More or less," he responded with a shrug and turned his attention to his beets. Augusta served beets regularly to add 'a dash of color to the plate'. Nicholas had never eaten beets before becoming a tenant of this house, and usually he was content to let them add color straight through the meal and back to the garbage. But tonight he attacked them with great gusto.
"Is your car badly damaged, Nick?" Beverly asked.
"My car?"
"You said you had an accident?"
"Oh, yes, but not in the car." He saw a look of panic flicker in Trissa's eyes as her fork faltered in mid-bite. He winked to reassure her. She had no way of knowing how very good he was at lying. "We were walking in this little patch of woods near Trissa's house and, gimpy as I am, I lost my footing and pulled Trissa down with me. We skidded all the way down an embankment and poor Trissa hit her head. She was out cold. Scared me to death." Nicholas paused to gauge his audience. Their expressions ranged from sympathy to alarm but not a single one showed doubt. He took a sip of wine and silently congratulated himself.
"Oh, my God!" Beverly said.
"You poor thing!" May exclaimed.
"What did you do?" Jack asked.
"Luckily, I was able to carry her out of the woods and flag down a car to take us to the hospital."
"And how do you feel now, dear?"
"I ache all over, but otherwise I'm okay," Trissa answered.
"You'll have to keep an eye on her, Nicholas. You can't be too careful with a head injury like that," Maurice advised.
"Yes, my Aunt Florence fell down the stairs and hit her head once," Hattie agreed, seizing a chance to regain the spotlight. "She never was quite right after that. And years later, on Thanksgiving, the whole family was sitting at the table, just like we are here, and, all of a sudden, Aunt Florence said 'oh my head!' and stood up and just keeled over dead. Flop, right in the pumpkin--"
"Hattie, I'm sure we'd all prefer a cheerier topic," interrupted Augusta.
Hattie's mouth snapped shut and her eyes narrowed first at Augusta and then at Nicholas and Trissa. "Fine," she snapped, snatched up her plate and carried it to the sink. "I haven't all night to spend at the dinner table anyway, what with late arrivals and all. I have papers to grade. Good night, ladies and gentlemen, I shall leave you to whatever cheery topic you deem appropriate." She folded her napkin and tossed it to the table then huffed up the backstairs.
Only Trissa looked dismayed at this show. May patted her hand and laughed. "Pay no mind to Hattie. High dudgeon is a neutral gear for her."