Victoria’s flute tipped.

One drop of champagne fell onto the white stone.

“She’s only having one of her little episodes today, Colonel,” she said again, as though the first time hadn’t stuck.

Richard shoved the heavy oak front door all the way open himself.

Victoria followed him in with the champagne flute raised up by her shoulder.

“You’re dragging in half of Belle Meade,” she said.

Richard kept going.