The invitation appeared on my nightstand at precisely 7:00 AM, written on cream-colored paper in Eleanor's precise, old-fashioned handwriting.
Sunday Dinner. Penthouse. 6:00 PM. Attendance is not optional. Bring nothing. Expect everything.
— Eleanor Chen, Matriarch
I found similar invitations distributed throughout the penthouse. Sophie received hers via Kevin, who had found it taped to his laptop with a small note: You may bring your decibel meter. I expect the dinner to be loud. Nathan's was folded into his guitar strings. Mrs. Nguyen's was propped against the tea kettle. Lucas's was tucked into his tablet case, which he discovered at 7:03 AM when he reached for his morning schedule.
"She printed invitations," Lucas said, holding the card with the expression of someone who had encountered an unexpected variable and was recalculating. "Physical invitations. On paper."
"She doesn't trust email," I said. "She says email is too easy to ignore."
