Chapter 48: Please

The coffee at Ridge Hall was terrible.

Ronan had made it at five in the dented pot, as he did every morning.

He set a mug in front of me at the kitchen table with a look of pure pride.

"It's a skill," he said.

"Everybody in the house is too kind to say so."

"Everybody in the house is drinking it."

I looked around the table.

Joanne had a mug in both hands and the supervisor's folder open beside her plate.

Anselm held his under his chin with the Moot's knife in his lap.

Abel stood at the stove in his mended apron, flipping eggs and swearing quietly.

The four aunts sat in a row on the bench along the wall.

They hadn't touched theirs.

"We're being polite," said the oldest, and she poured hers into the sink.

"Auntie!"

"There's a pot in the pantry with my name on it."

Ronan put a hand on his heart, wounded.

I wore a plain gold band now, and he had the pale scar on his wrist.

I had caught myself looking at the two of them all week.

The boy of about nine slid in through the back door, the way he had on my first morning at the Hall.

He stopped at the end of the table and looked me up and down.

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