My brother-in-law called for king crab legs for the table, might as well go all out for Dad.

And so it went, around the alcove, a dozen people ordering from the most expensive quarter of the menu with the happy unconcern of people spending money that would never be theirs.

I sat at the end of the table with a glass of sparkling water and did the arithmetic in my head, the way I do, because I cannot not do it.

The food alone, before a dollar of tax or tip, was already pushing eighteen hundred dollars, and the desserts had not even been discussed yet.