Caroline sat next to him, lining up three silver serving spoons in a neat row beside the gravy boat.

Margaret stood at the head of the table, carving thin slices off a cold ham on a big white china platter.

I sat down near the middle of the table and reached for the warm dish of sweet potatoes to pass to Frank.

Frank cleared his throat, took the ceramic dish without looking at me, and set it on the trivet next to his fork.

“The gravy boat is full,” Frank said.