“Where was Dad when Arthur took this?” I asked.

“In his study,” Clare said.

“He refused to come outside because he claimed the sun would ruin his trousers.”

David put his right hand on Clare’s shoulder, his gold cufflink catching the light from the chandelier overhead.

“Look around the floor, Evelyn,” David said.

I twisted my silver class ring on my finger and glanced toward the outer tables.

Mrs.

Gable, who had lived across Main Street from us for twenty years, was clapping her hands near her chin.