Richard sighs, apparently surrendering to the inevitable, but then swings on Ryan. “You too. We can’t have the house guests not in the party spirit.”
*****
James, wearing a neon-green pirate hat, enters with another loaded platter, Meg and Archie trotting in his wake. He turns, aiming a finger back out to the hall. “Out,” he says, then clicks the door firmly closed behind himself.
“We have a salad course next,” he announces. “Just a bit of something light pending the main meal.”
Klempner, his pink paper hat askew, heaps salad and prawns onto his plate then scans the table. “Is there any dressing?”
James slides across a condiments tray loaded with jars and bottles, indicating one bottle after another. “Thousand Island… Extra virgin olive oil or balsamic.”
Klempner snaps his fingers at
