At twenty to seven, Odalind’s parents called.

There had been a bad multi-car pileup on I-35W; traffic was stopped dead.

They were mortified, apologizing over and over, and they thought they’d be nearly an hour late.

When Ansel relayed it to the room, Wilhelmina took the head of the table as though it had been reserved for her.

“Good.

Then serve us now.