Rosie's typically somber greeting was interrupted when her eyes landed on Josie. She shot up straight like an oak tree.

"Rosie," Hank gave his usual nod as he took his hat off when passing the threshold. He stifled a smile as he assisted Josie with her coat before slipping from his own.

The shock from Rosie, who had been greeting him as a bother for a full 20-years, satisfied a craving he hadn't known existed. A level of confidence surged in him as he let his hand slip once again to the small of Josie's back as they made their way to the parlor. It was less a confidence from companionship and more a sureness that the formality did not matter in the slightest.

"Mr. Carroll and his guest are here," Rosie's voice was level, unlike her demeanor.

"I have a name," Josie's spirit bellowed through her words. "My name is Josie, Josie King." A moment's pause met the declaration to Elise and Peter. Even Rosie deferred her departure from the unusual assertion.

"Welcome. Welcome. Hank," Peter gave Hank a nod as he rose, "and Ms. King."

"You can call me Josie. I don't care for the ceremony; it feels like painting a pig if you ask me." Hank stifled his smile as Elise fanned herself from the scene of it all. He knew his mother would have the exact fit as Elise, but the moment felt liberating from the choke of the room.

A hand tugged at his elbow before he could take a step toward his seat. Rosie's eyes were wide as the ocean when he met them.

"How could you bring her here?" She hissed. "It's just not right. Not when she looks..." Rosie's face dropped as Peter drew near.

"Everything all right, Rosie?" He asked in a friendly tone that still cut with a warning. Josie might be allowed to break with tradition as a guest, but Hank was confident that any dip in service from Rosie would discredit her 30-years with the family in the blink of an eye.

"Yes, dinner should be ready in just a few moments," she bowed her head as she headed back down the hall.

Hank couldn't help but watch her, hoping for a sign of where her warning was born, but she didn't supply a clue. He settled on the loveseat next to Josie even as his mind remained askew. He felt the nervousness in his joints as he interlaced his fingers to keep them from twitching. The conversation unfolded around him, with little sinking into his thoughts. The Webbs could not join as planned, as Mr. Webb had come down with a cough. Those at the table exchanged pleasantries over the home and Josie's lovely dress with a nod to Clara that she would have appreciated. Hank's eyes again searched the room for the root of Josie's warning, twitching from Josie to Elise, Josie to his mother.

"The dress is lovely," Elise mused. "I believe I recall Clara wearing that to a holiday party years ago. She was the belle of the ball."

There was spite in her words, even with her flowery prose. It settled Hank's mind. The dress was a callback to long-forgotten envy between Clara and Elise. Hank had almost forgotten; it had been so long ago, and Elise had surged ahead so far in life. It felt pitiful that she would still carry any weight of resentment.

Josie's laugh rang through the room slightly more boisterously than needed. He knew it was an imitation of her real trill, but as she used the moment to settle a hand on his knee, he realized it was a call to him. An opportunity to pull him back from the abyss with which he was floating. Hank found his solace, and he was eager to slip back to the relief of Josie.

"So, tell us, where did you meet this delightful young lady, Hank?" Peter's smile spread broadly but lacked the usual guilt. This felt honest, as though for a moment, and to the dismay of his wife, Peter was allowing the briefest of genuine pleasure in Hank's happiness. Hank let it deflate a moment before answering as Josie was not his; she was all her own.

"Her car; it broke down as she was passing through, and it's a bit of a classic, so Willie directed her my way." As expected, the explanation depleted Hanks' elation.

She was just here for the car, and Hank had nearly completed the work. Then she would be on her way again as she searched for her family. He was foolish to think that there was any additional connection. He snuffed the last of his suspicion that she had been driving to him. The car was just a coincidence.

"Hank is too kind. It is less of a classic and more of a moving scrap pile." Josie had a way of making light of her lot, but this time it rubbed Hank. It was a classic and a well-preserved one at that.

"Actually, it is a 1962 Ford Consul. Do you remember the car?" He needed Peter to acknowledge it, so he was not the only one. Even with the photo in his pocket, he was sure his mind could play tricks, filling in gaps with needs, not facts.

"Consul, I know the car. Does it have any special meaning?" Hank shrunk at Peter's remark.

"Only for me; it was the last thing my momma left me before she passed." Josie had her usual smile. Speaking of her dead mother seemed familiar to her; it no longer taxed any ill emotion.

Peter reacted to the information solemnly, a mixture of stun and fear. Hank could only imagine it stirred the emotions of Henry Jr. and perhaps even Bella. If etiquette can do anything, it can preserve sorrow for a lifetime.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," Peter's voice was thin and strained.

"Peter, are you all right?" There was a cold annoyance to Elise's voice that came through, even when the sentiment should be tender.

"Yes, perhaps the bourbon is settling unwell," his voice was absent and his eyes distant. Instinctively, Hank rose to lay a hand on Peter's shoulder. Peter's eyes raised to meet his with the most grief-stricken expression Hank had ever seen. "Perhaps I am coming down with James' cold. We played a round of golf yesterday."

The sudden frailty of Peter disturbed Hank. "Perhaps we should have dinner another time?"

Peter looked up at Hank gratefully. "Yes. Yes, I think that would be best." Peter heaved himself up as Hank caught an elbow to assist.

"May I help you upstairs?" Hank offered.

"No, no. I don't want to keep you if I won't be feeding you." He gave a faint smile. Elise remained in her seat, sipping her martini passively.

"I'll call on you tomorrow. Let me know if I can bring you anything." Hank held his gaze as he spoke.

"Josie, I am truly sorry that I didn't get to know you better." The remark was solemn with sincerity.

It was a weighty enough comment that even stirred Elise. She lifted her gaze from the silver pick she was swirling around her drink, first to Peter and then Josie. They lingered there on Josie, a trolling disdainful stare, but she remained silent.