A young waiter named Thomas set down a plain glass of tap water and an unpressed paper napkin.

“I can try to find a bread plate if you want one, ma’am,” Thomas whispered, leaning down so his voice would not carry across the hardwood floor.

“They dragged this table up from the basement ten minutes before the doors opened.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” I said.

“The water is fine.”

I sat alone at the bare wooden table while two hundred guests filled the room with noise and laughter.

Across the floor, table one was lit by two tall crystal lamps and surrounded by local bank officers, trust advisors, and Greenfield business owners.