His voice was short and unsure.

“Pass the cold ham along to Caroline,” Margaret said.

I lifted the platter, then froze with my arms stretched halfway across the tablecloth.

The little wooden chair across from me was empty.

Lucy’s white china plate sat untouched, her cloth napkin folded neatly beside an unused dessert fork.

“Where’s Lucy?” I asked.

Caroline didn’t look up from her lap.

She raised her left hand and studied her thumbnail in the light from the chandelier.