Chapter 18: Sunday Dinner

The Lake Forest dining room sat fourteen, and on Sunday every chair was taken.

Arthur sat at the head with his cane hooked on the table edge.

His good hand lay flat on the cloth.

Elsie sat on his right, with Darius beside her.

The chairman was there, and the director in the gray suit, and four more directors in dark suits who ate nothing.

Two of the directors had not met anyone's eyes since they came in.

Upstairs the twins slept in a bassinet with the nurse beside them.

Elsie kept a baby monitor on the table by her water glass.

Pauline took her usual place at the foot, in pearls, with her hands folded.

Imogen came in last.

She wore the cream blazer and carried a bunch of white roses.

"Arthur," she said warmly. "You look so much better."

"Sit," Arthur said.

She sat beside her mother, and she smiled across the table at Elsie.

"Hi, love," Imogen said.

Nobody answered her.

Arthur lifted his left hand an inch off the table.

"Elsie," he said. "Play it."

"Dad, you don't have to hear."

"I have to."

Elsie took out her phone, set it in the middle of the table, and touched the screen.

Imogen's voice came out of the phone, bright and unhurried, and the directors stopped chewing.

Pauline went white at the first sentence.

"Turn that off," she said.

Somebody's fork rang against a plate.

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