The fish arrived with a lemon in its mouth and an expression of permanent surprise.
Celia stared at it.
“Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t we have a fish?”
The servant lowered the platter between two open account books. The independent clerk caught a lifted corner of paper before it settled in the sauce.
“Not there.”
“There is nowhere else, sir.”
Lyra moved the water jug. Celia moved the fish to the new space with more force than necessary. A drop of sauce struck the tablecloth exactly between them.
For an instant, they almost laughed.
