Eleven plates went around the table.

I set the twelfth at the head and turned it so the pattern faced the room.

The tray went in the middle of the runner, heavy as a hubcap, and I lined it up square with the edge.

Six forty-four.

Sixteen minutes.

Ruth had one arm out of her coat before I got her past the sideboard.

I didn’t want to risk the dining room yet, so I took her elbow and steered her down the hallway with Arthur behind us, his hat still in his hand.

“Not out there,” I said.