“James, I am ready!” Miss Sarah called. Her white hair was combed neatly. Heirloom diamond jewelry twinkled from her ears and neck.
“Marvelous, Madame. You look ravishing. If you would just take my arm...” James, Miss Sarah’s servant, held out his arm for his elderly employer. He was just a few years younger than Miss Sarah and had been a servant in her household since birth. James was more than just hired help-- he was her oldest and most loyal friend.
He escorted Miss Sarah down the winding, grand staircase. Carefully, the two made their way down the carpeted stairs. He led the frail older woman one step at a time. James could feel her long, bony fingers gripping his arm tightly, her skeletal hand shaking as she carefully lifted and lowered each foot onto the next step. She was nearing the end, he thought. “As you can see, the guests are all here.”
Miss Sarah scanned the room, looking into the faces of her closest friends. Although each one was old like her, their faces appeared to her unaged, like she remembered them from their youth. Time did not touch the old woman’s memory.
“Hello, Monsieur Beliveau! Comment allez-vous? Bien! And Captain Haddock! How well you look! Who would know you were laid up with pneumonia just a few weeks ago? No doubt you’ll be back on the open sea in no time!”
The sparkling chime of the dinner bell signaled for the guests to take their seats. Five identical place settings of fine china and heavy silverware had been laid out carefully by another servant earlier. Miss Sarah came from the old Mississippi stock who had owned successful plantations, accruing a fortune that allowed them to afford such exquisite cutlery and hire multiple servants. Sarah’s great-grandfather, Jacob Fou, had set up the largest tobacco plantation in the state. He was famous for his shrewd business sense until he reached the autumnal stage in life at which once great men descend into madness. His personal servant, Earl, was James’ great-grandfather. Earl stayed with Fou until the end.
James helped Miss Sarah to her seat at the head of the table before pulling out each guest’s chair.
“James, I believe we are ready for the first course.” She unfolded the fine linen napkin and placed it carefully on her lap. The manservant began to serve the vegetable soup. “Please be sure to give the Captain a healthy serving. He is still getting over his terrible sickness.” Turning toward the sailor, she added, “We were so afraid we were going to lose you, dear, but so very happy you were able to join us today. This is a very big birthday for me.”
As James continued to portion out the thin soup, Miss Sarah continued to make small talk with her guests.
“Mrs. Caecus, how are you? I haven’t heard from you in so very long. How are your grandchildren? There’s no occasion like a ninetieth birthday to gather old friends for a dinner. Speaking of old, James, where is that vintage bottle of wine I asked you to serve tonight? It would go marvelously with the fish we will be having. You know, Monsieur, it was my great-grandfather’s favorite wine. The very same kind he served at all of his special gatherings. Poor Great-Granddaddy. They tell me he was batty at the end. God rest his soul.”

James left the room to fetch the Merlot the aged woman had asked for.
Miss Sarah twisted the diamond on her gaunt ring finger. “I only wish my husband was able to join us, but, as you all know, he is attending to some important business in the city.” She paused for a moment, “He works so much. He’s barely home at all.”
***

The heavy rain made the roads to the old Antebellum house muddy and dangerous.

“Patrick, you must be patient with my grandmother,” Julie entreated of her husband, “she is ninety today and beginning to show the family illness, I think. Oh, I hope we aren't too late!”

Since Julie’s grandfather had died, there had been no one to tend to the crops. The bare plants waved in the wind like bony hands welcoming the couple. Ahead, the mansion loomed above the grounds. The house, like her grandmother, was a relic from another time.

“The family illness? You mean, the rumors about Jacob Fou are true?” Patrick asked. He had heard about the crazy Old Man Fou from his grandparents and parents. It was a small town, and gossip spread quickly and through generations. The Fous were famous for their successful tobacco business, but they were also known for a mental instability that usually appeared later in life. Unfortunately, the latter was what the surname was most associated with.

“Yes. My parents say he spoke of things that weren't there... people, usually. I think he was just lonely after his wife died.”

“How long has it been since you've been home?”

“Terribly long,” Julie sighed. After going away to college, she had been too caught up in school, friends, and finding a job to remember her grandmother, a woman on the other end of life. “I must admit I haven’t seen my grandmother much lately. She must be so alone, poor thing. She’s outlived almost all her friends. All she has left is James, and he’s just a servant. I think another one of her companions-- Admiral Something? General Something?-- just passed a few weeks ago of pneumonia. I wonder how she is taking it.”

They stopped, and Patrick held the door open for his wife. They made their way up the steps onto the porch. Julie knocked on the door. James, her grandmother’s butler, opened it and ushered them in out of the downpour.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Joven. Your grandmother will be so happy to see you.” James led them through the long dark hall to the dining room.
“Oh, Grandmother! So sorry we are late. You would not believe the road conditions-- absolutely awful!” Julie unbuttoned her coat and handed it to James. “But, where are all the guests? I thought we were late!”
“Alone on your birthday! Poor Mrs. Fou!” Patrick said, just now coming through the door, “Julie said it was to be a large dinner party?” He looked at the six place settings and five empty chairs. Two were for them, but who were the other three for?
James stood distinguished at his place near the door to the kitchen, a wistfully thoughtful look on his old and wrinkled face.

“Grandmother, where are your friends?”
Sarah stared blankly ahead. She then turned to Monsieur Beliveau’s chair, “How rude of them to talk as though you were not sitting right here.”
Three empty chairs stared back at her.