Jane had been used to using tablecloths, crisp white linen ones, freshly washed, starched and ironed, with matching napkins that were always folded just so. They had to be perfect, or it would hurt, so now she saw not using a tablecloth in two minds, a release of the pressure for perfection, and a betrayal of standards, it was confusing, but she was working on it. "I just, dinner feels wrong without a tablecloth you know? As if the table isn't ready?"
She strained the rice and fluffed it quickly, then tipped it onto the plates, stirred the cream into the sauce, and then dished that up on top of the rice. She carried the plates to the table and set them down, then went back to the oven for the rolls, fetching butter from the fridge and two side plates while she was there. The advantages of a small apartment were obvious to her, everything was close by!