24 - Maeve
At first, the dinner was awkward, but in a good way.
After Kathleen rescued the lasagna, I brought the half-spherical salad bowl from the fridge and set it on the table, taking care not to upset the delicate ball glasses, made of the same crystal as the doomed vase.
There would be no wine served, but a slim bottle of sparkling water waited to be opened.
We took our places after Kathleen made sure everything was on the table. The large plates were passed around, with each guest serving him or herself. It was an easygoing formula that ensured no waste left by overfilling plates, and Kathleen didn’t have to get up every half-minute like my overworking mother did.
For a couple of minutes, only the clinks of utensils and sips from the glasses were heard, while the sound of waves
