Chương 3
That answer was worse than I expected.
“You thought I didn’t care?”
“You never corrected anybody.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“You’d shrug it off.”
“I shrugged it off because every time I didn’t, you asked me to keep the peace.”
Chase shifted near the sideboard.
No one looked at him.
That seemed to bother him more than anger would have.
Evan lowered his voice.
“I was trying to keep things from turning into this.”
He gestured at the table, the spilled wine, the broken folder, his brother standing rigid beside a chair.
I looked around.
“This didn’t happen because I corrected anyone.”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“I know.”
Diane returned from the kitchen carrying a tray of rolls wrapped in a towel.
She stopped halfway through the doorway.
Nobody reached for one.
After a moment, she put the tray on the sideboard and smoothed the towel around it twice.
“Can we sit down?”
Graham stared at his plate.
“For what?”
“Because the food’s getting cold.”
The answer was absurdly ordinary.
It was also the first thing anyone had said in several minutes that sounded like real life.
Miles handed me the coin.
His fingers lingered for a second before he let go.
“Daniel would be furious if he knew I told that story.”
“He’ll survive.”
“He’d also say that was a terrible choice of words.”
I slipped the coin into my pocket.
That made Miles smile faintly.
Then the smile vanished when Chase spoke.
“So what, everybody’s just going to act like I committed some crime?”
Diane’s head snapped toward him.
“Chase.”
“What?”
“You grabbed her.”
“I grabbed her wrist.”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t attacking her.”
I looked at the faint red marks already forming above my hand.
He saw me look.
His expression changed.
Not remorse.
Calculation.
“I didn’t squeeze that hard.”
Evan said, “Stop.”
Chase turned on him.
“Don’t start acting righteous now.”
Evan flinched.
That one hit because it was true.
Graham’s chair scraped backward.
“Outside.”
Chase frowned.
“What?”
“You and me.”
“Dad, I’m not sixteen.”
“Then stop behaving like you’re twelve.”
Chase’s nostrils flared.
For a second I thought he might refuse.
Then he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked toward the back door.
Graham followed him.
The door closed behind them with surprising softness.
Through the glass, I could see Chase talking immediately, shoulders moving, one hand cutting through the air.
Graham stood still.
He had always been better at silence than any of his sons.
Diane sat down heavily.
“I’m sorry.”
I did not answer right away.
She looked at me.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
Her eyes dropped to my wrist.
“I should have stopped him sooner.”
There were several honest responses available to me.
Most of them would have made Thanksgiving worse.
I picked the simplest.
“Yes.”
Diane nodded as if I had struck her.
Evan looked at me sharply.
I ignored him.
One of Graham’s former officers, a woman named Rita Sloan, lifted the wine bottle and stared at the label.
“Well.”
Everyone turned toward her.
She poured herself half a glass.
“I’m seventy-two years old, and this is officially the strangest Thanksgiving I’ve attended since my sister married a magician.”
Miles gave a short snort.
Rita looked at him.
“He was not a good magician.”
That broke something in the room.
Not the tension.
Nothing that convenient.
But people exhaled.
Someone picked up a fork.
Diane passed the rolls.
A man across from me asked for butter in a voice so careful you would have thought butter had become classified material.
I sat down.
My appetite was gone.
I put mashed potatoes on my plate anyway because doing nothing felt too visible.
Evan remained standing beside me.
“You want to leave?”
I looked up at him.
“Do you?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
He dragged his chair closer and sat.
For several seconds he stared at his hands.
“I should’ve said something.”
“Yes.”
“I kept thinking if I corrected Chase, he’d make it into this whole thing.”
“He made it into a whole thing anyway.”
“I know.”
“No, you know now.”
He looked at me.
That landed harder than I intended.
I was angry enough not to take it back.
Outside, Chase’s gestures became bigger.
Graham still had not moved.
Evan followed my gaze.
“He’s always been like that with Dad.”
“What does that mean?”
“Always trying to prove he belongs in every conversation.”
“He could try listening.”
“He doesn’t know how.”
“That isn’t a medical condition.”
Evan almost smiled.
The expression disappeared before it fully formed.
“I’m not defending him.”
“You’ve spent two years doing exactly that.”
“I thought I was managing him.”
“You managed me.”
His face tightened.
I picked up my water.
The glass shook slightly in my hand.
That annoyed me.
I put it back down.
Evan noticed.
He always noticed the small things and somehow missed the important ones.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I stared at my plate.
There was gravy touching the cranberry sauce.
I hated when that happened.
For some reason, that tiny detail nearly undid me.
“You don’t get to fix this in one sentence.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
The back door opened.
Cold air moved through the room.
Chase came in first.
His face had gone blotchy around the eyes.
Graham followed.
Neither man looked at anyone.
Chase walked to his chair.
He did not sit.
Instead he picked up the broken leather folder and placed it carefully beside my plate.
“I’ll replace this.”
I looked at him.
“That’s not what you need to fix.”
His jaw moved.
“I know.”
Evan glanced at me.
I did not.
Chase pulled out his chair, then stopped.
He seemed to be waiting for instruction.
Graham said, “You have something else to say.”
Chase stared at the table.
“I’m sorry I grabbed you.”
The room stayed quiet.
He added, “And for the cup.”
His eyes lifted briefly to mine.
“And the other stuff.”
May you like
“The other stuff has names.”
His cheeks darkened.
