Chapter 16: Sunday Dinner

My aunt's dining room held ten people and one ham.

The uncle who had given me away at my wedding sat at the head.

The aunt who had raised me through the summers after my mother left sat at the foot.

Between them were my grandmother, two cousins with their husbands, Clint, and my own empty chair.

Candace sat across from it in a pale cardigan with her eyes swollen shut.

Dread was parked at the curb in the shop's truck with the engine running.

Before I got out, he had put his hand on the back of my neck and held it there.

"If it goes bad, you walk out," he had said. "I don't care what's on the table."

"It's going to go bad."

"Then walk out."

I wore Lo's green dress, because Clint had told me to wear something that wasn't his.

He saw it the moment I came in.

His smile did not move, but his eyes went down the dress once and stopped.

"There she is," Clint said, and stood to pull out my chair.

I sat. I let him push me in.

My aunt said grace, and everyone said amen, and the ham went around.

"We're all family here," my uncle said, carving. "Whatever's happened, we sit down and we fix it like family."

"Thank you, Uncle."

"Candace is beside herself, Betsy."

"I'm sure she is."

Candace made a small wet sound into her napkin.

"I made a terrible mistake," she whispered. "I was lonely, and I never meant for you to find out like that."

"Like how?" I asked.

"Like that."

"Do you mean on my phone? Or in my bed?"

My grandmother put down her fork.

"Betsy," Clint said gently. "Let's not do this at the table."

"You wanted a family dinner."

"I wanted us to talk."

"Then I'll talk."

I took my phone out of my purse.

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