“Daniel mentioned we might only be eight,” I said, keeping my voice quiet and even.
Eleanor adjusted the small gold cross on her neck, her thumb rubbing the polished metal.
“Plans change when a business grows, dear,” she said, her eyes fixed on the silver gravy boat. “Daniel has so much on his shoulders right now, and he deserves a peaceful home to return to.”
I picked up a large dinner plate from the stack of silver wedding china. The platinum vines along the rim felt cold against my palm.
“He does,” I said.
“A man who carries the weight of thirty employees cannot be expected to manage the domestic details,” she said, sliding a silver butter knife into its slot. “He needs to know his foundation is solid.”
“The foundation has always been solid, Eleanor.”
“Then we agree,” she said, giving the velvet box a firm tap with her polished nails. “Twelve settings, then.”
She picked up a small silver fork and turned it over to check the hallmark.
“We should use the linen napkins with the lace trim,” she said. “The ones from my mother.”
