“That’s the point.”

Richard had invited six people from the bank for Friday dinner, and he was already polishing the good glasses when I got home.

He stood at the head of the table in his navy sweater, pouring wine for the regional director’s wife.

His hand rested on my shoulder when I passed the potatoes.

“My wife makes the best pot roast in Fairview,” he said.

The director’s wife smiled at me.