Duncan put his name on the wrong table.
Frankie found the card in the Morning Room, where he'd placed it beside a little vase with one flower in it.
“Here?” Frankie asked.
“For supper. I like the chair.”
He stood beside June, who was deciding how many people the table would actually hold without making everyone reach through the flowers.
“Four,” she said.
“Three comfortably,” Duncan said.
“Four eating.”
“Fair.”
Frankie picked up the card.
“Lorne?”
“Duncan.”
“You're on the Table.”
“For the welcome.”
“Then there.”
“For supper I'm here.”
She looked at the chair he'd chosen. It faced partly towards the window, partly towards the open doors, with a view of the Ballroom if he turned.
“Who with?”
Duncan glanced at the other places. “We'll see who comes.”
June took the card from Frankie and put it back.
“It's a table, not a contract.”
Nina came through from the Ballroom carrying a floor plan which had acquired enough pencil marks to look like a dispute about land.
“Good?”
“Three comfortably,” Duncan said.
“Then don't seat four comfortably,” June said. “Seat four.”
Nina laughed.
Frankie looked towards the old Table. Vivian was putting the leaf holders out again. Only there. They would mark the selected chairs and make the ordinary supper tables look like somewhere one went after missing the point.
Gideon had asked for that distinction.
He wanted the Morning Room less visible during the welcome. Nina had proposed a short shift in light, enough to concentrate attention on the dais without making diners feel they'd been put out.
June had said the people carrying food would still need to see.
They were testing it now.
Sol lowered the Ballroom light by degrees.
The Morning Room remained ordinary and bright.
“That doesn't hide it,” Frankie said.
“It's a room,” Sol said. “Not a stain.”
Nina pointed towards the doorway.
“We can gather people closer to the dais.”
“Without blocking this,” June said.
“Yes.”
Duncan sat in his supper chair.
Frankie watched him settle.
He looked comfortable. Not magnificently so. He'd chosen a chair with a good back, near enough to see, far enough not to become part of every movement.
She'd imagined him remaining at the formal table through Gideon's rejection. The quiet patron, no longer inventing himself, still lending the company the authority of a man who didn't need to announce what he thought.
His chosen chair gave him another possibility.
She wanted to ask whether he'd be there at the critical moment.
She'd asked enough versions of that question.
“Can you see the welcome?”
He turned.
“Yes.”
She stood behind the chair to try the view. Duncan stayed seated, making her move a little to see past him.
June went to check the kitchen pass. Nina followed Sol into the Ballroom. Frankie stayed beside the table.
“Do you know what Felix will do?”
Duncan asked it as though it wasn't a test.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Is it?”
“It should be his.”
She touched the card.
“He wants to see Gideon hear him ask.”
“I can understand that.”
“He might enjoy making him look foolish.”
“I can understand that as well.”
“Would you?”
Duncan looked at the wide doors.
“Sometimes I imagine you being very sorry.”
Frankie didn't move.
“Then I remember how much time that would take from things I might actually enjoy.”
She looked down at the flower.
It was too tall for the little vase. One petal hung against the edge.
“What do you enjoy?”
“Some of this.”
She looked at him.
He didn't make the answer larger.
“And I have a book at home I haven't finished because people keep asking me to come here.”
She laughed.
“What book?”
He told her.
She hadn't read it.
She resisted saying she had.
Duncan noticed.
“Very good,” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
On Monday Gideon came to see the layout.
Duncan was at work. His card remained on the Morning Room table.
Gideon picked it up.
“Duncan gets a separate place?”
“For supper,” Nina said.
“Why?”
“He chose it.”
Gideon looked towards Frankie.
She could feel the old urge to supply a reason he would like better. Duncan preferred a quieter place; he was guarding the second room; it was all part of Nina's arrangement.
“Yes,” she said.
Gideon put the card down.
“I want him in the welcome.”
“He'll be there.”
“And the company.”
“Yes.”
“Not drifting into another room before the point.”
Nina took him to the dais.
“We gather them here. The song, Vivian's history, your part. Then supper.”
“You've put supper too close.”
“It's a supper.”
“I don't want people choosing food over the moment.”
Frankie thought that was precisely what they might do.
She said, “They'll have heard the welcome.”
He looked at the wide doors.
“Can we put something there?”
June, entering with a packet of napkins, stopped.
“No.”
“A screen.”
“Not across the passage.”
“At the side.”
“At the side perhaps.”
Nina looked towards Sol's position.
“We can dress the edge. Keep the route.”
Gideon nodded.
“A little less ordinary dining room.”
Vivian had come in behind June.
“It is an ordinary dining room.”
“Exactly.”
She looked at him.
Frankie could see the insult arrive slowly. He'd paid to be made welcome in a room which had felt unlike his own events. Now the room needed to be made less itself so he could use it.
“We'll look at it,” Nina said.
Gideon put his hand on the back of the centre chair.
“And Felix. Wednesday?”
“Yes,” Frankie said.
“He understands he's asking?”
“Yes.”
“For an invitation.”
“For entry to the Table.”
“Good.”
He smiled.
For the first time since she'd told Felix, Frankie had to keep the whole truth out of her face.
When he left, Vivian moved his chair two inches away from the centre.
Nina watched.
“Will he move it back?”
“Probably.”
“Then why?”
Vivian looked towards the Morning Room.
“Because he's gone.”
Frankie smiled.
Duncan's card remained beside the flower, marking one ordinary chair.