Setting the Place
An elderly man in a brown corduroy jacket smoothed down the linen napkin at a long wooden dinner table. He adjusted the silverware with careful, deliberate movements, placing a small pinecone decoration in the center of the plate.
A younger man stepped up behind him and crossed his arms. “Your wife is gone, stop setting a place for her,” he said, staring at the extra plate.
The older man did not look up from the table settings. “I know she’s gone,” he replied quietly, placing a small folded card on the wood.
The younger man leaned in closer, his voice rising. “Then quit making everyone sit here and watch this.”
The older man adjusted a glass candle holder near the place setting. “I’m not asking anyone to watch.”
The Confrontation at the Table
A woman in a white turtleneck stepped in front of the table, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “You’re embarrassing everyone,” she said, looking down at the place setting. “She’s dead. Stop pretending this is romantic.”
The man rested his hand near the plate. “I’m not pretending anything.”
She leaned toward him, gesturing at the empty chair. “Then clear the place before people start thinking you’ve lost your mind.”
He straightened his jacket and looked directly at her. “Let them think what they want.”
She shook her head, her posture stiffening. “You’re setting dinner for a woman who is never walking through that door again.”
He stood his ground by the chair. “I know exactly who isn’t coming.”
She reached down and grabbed the edge of the plate. “Fine. If you won’t clear it, I will.”
A Name on the Card
The man placed his hand over hers, stopping her movement instantly. “Don’t touch that place.”
She pulled her hand back, glaring at him. “Why? She isn’t coming back.”
He pressed both hands flat on the table edge. “I know. That’s not why it’s there.”
She pointed down at the white card standing next to the glass lantern. “You made her a place card, too? This is getting creepy.”
The man picked up the card and held it out to her. “Read it.”
She took the card, unfolded it, and blinked as her eyebrows pulled together. “That’s not her name.”
He looked toward the entrance of the dining hall. “No, it isn’t.”
An Expected Guest
Near the doorway, an elderly woman in a dark burgundy coat walked slowly into the room, holding her purse in front of her. She paused near the entrance, looking hesitantly around the full dining room.
The daughter looked from the woman at the door back to her father. “Who is that?”
The man gestured toward the newcomer. “The woman whose name is on the card.”
His daughter stared at him, her arm dropping to her side. “Why did your wife leave her a place?”
He stepped out from behind the table. “Because she promised her she’d never have to eat alone.”
The woman in the burgundy coat walked over to the table, her hands trembling slightly against her coat. “I almost didn’t come,” she murmured. “I thought the invitation died with her.”
The man pulled out the wooden chair for her. “She made me promise it wouldn’t.”
The woman brought a hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes as she looked down at the set plate. “After she passed, I stopped coming.”
He nodded softly. “I noticed.”
She sat down in the wooden chair, resting her bag on her lap. His daughter stepped back slowly, her mouth slightly open as she watched the elderly guest rest her hands on the table.
The man sat down in the adjacent chair and smiled softly at the woman across the candlelight as servers began carrying food into the room.
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