Chapter 9: Hall

My father lifted his cup and looked at Chet over the top of it.

"Good morning," he said. "There's more tea downstairs, if you'd like some."

"Mr. Engstrom." Chet's hand went to his collar, and he stopped. "I'm sorry. I should have..."

"You should have buttoned up before the stairs. Yes." My father took a sip. "I've done the same. At twenty-six, in a house much smaller than this."

Chet said nothing.

"Her mother's father caught me, you know. He asked me if my intentions were honorable."

"What did you say?"

"I said I hadn't had time to form any." My father smiled, and it was the first full smile I'd seen in two weeks. "I married her anyway."

He set the cup on the rail and put his hand on Chet's arm.

"Go and wash your face, son. And whatever you came here to do, think hard before you do it."

Chet's eyes went wide.

Then he nodded once and walked past him down the stairs without looking at my door.

My father looked at the crack I was standing behind.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said, and went on to his study.

I should have felt safe.

At breakfast my mother was waiting, and I saw from her face that she had been told.

Russell was at her side, buttering toast, with a look of sorrowful patience.

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