Chapter 17: Sunday Dinner

Eleanor's dining table seated eight, and every chair was full.

Her sister sat there with her husband, and so did two cousins of Daniel's and an old family friend.

Eleanor sat at the head, and Lorna sat at her right in a cream cardigan, passing the potatoes.

Winslow pulled out a chair for me, and I sat with my back to the wall.

June was at Bea's.

Two officers and the investigator were in the study across the hall, and Winslow had left the front door unlatched for them.

"Georgina," said Lorna. "I'm so glad you came."

"Are you."

"I've forgiven you, you know. For everything you said. You were frightened."

She smiled at the whole table.

Eleanor's sister reached over and patted her hand.

Eleanor set the folded consent form beside Winslow's plate, where everyone could see it.

"We'll have this settled before dessert," she said. "A mother's place is with her child, and a child's place is with her family."

"Mother," said Winslow.

"Eat your lamb."

He did not eat.

He took the paper from beside his plate and stood up.

The table went quiet.

"Winslow, sit down," Eleanor said.

"I signed this six weeks ago. Lorna put it in front of me with a pen."

"Winslow," said Lorna softly.

"I didn't read it."

He tore it in half, and then in half again, and set the pieces on Eleanor's white tablecloth.

"I'm withdrawing my consent. In front of everyone, so nobody can say later that I didn't."

Eleanor's face went rigid.

"Is this her doing?"

"It's mine." He took his phone out of his pocket. "There's something you all need to hear."

"Not at the table," Lorna said.

"At the table."

He put the phone on the cloth, beside the gravy boat, and pressed play.

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