Chapter 5: The Key on the Table

Mom lived in a condo with a plastic runner on the hall carpet and a ham in the oven every Sunday.

She opened the door before I knocked.

"You came," she said. "Good. Take off your shoes."

She did not hug me. She looked at my hands, wrapped in gauze, and said nothing about them.

Four people already sat at the dining table.

Toby stared at his plate. Darius sat in my usual chair, relaxed, with one arm on the back of the next chair.

Lyla wore a white cardigan and a face scrubbed pink from crying.

She stood up and wrapped her arms around me before I could stop her.

"I forgive you," she whispered into my hair, where everyone could see. "I forgive you, Cori."

I stepped back out of her arms.

"Sit," Mom said. "We are going to talk like a family."

I sat. Nobody passed me the potatoes.

Darius cleared his throat. He had put on his credit union voice.

"I want to take responsibility for a misunderstanding. A surprise went wrong. Veronica was frightened, and she heard something that wasn't there."

"Heard something that wasn't there," I repeated.

"You have a history of this, babe. Remember the cellar?"

I took my phone out of my pocket and set it on the table next to the gravy boat.

"Veronica," Mom said. "No phones at dinner."

"Mom, one thing. Thirty seconds."

I pressed play.

Darius's voice came out of the little speaker, flat and clear, and then Lyla's.

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