The car backed down the driveway and pulled onto the main road.

I stood on the patio and watched Ethan drive off.

The dining room at the Oak Hills Country Club was unusually busy for a Tuesday afternoon.

The hostess led us to a curved leather booth that looked out over the eighteenth green.

Patricia sat down and set her designer handbag on the empty seat next to her.

She held up the heavy wine list and tapped its gold-foil edge.

“Obviously we’re sparing no expense whatsoever for the kids,” Patricia said.