Chapter 20: Out the Door

The older twin took Torsten's wrist before it reached the microphone.

"Not tonight, Uncle," he said.

"Take your hands off me."

"I will, at the door."

The younger twin appeared on Torsten's other side with a very pleasant smile, and the baby fell in behind.

They walked him down the center of the ballroom between the tables.

Nobody stopped them.

Three hundred people watched a man in a perfect tuxedo be escorted out by three of his nephews.

The reporter ran after them with her recorder held high.

"Mr. Ashgrove," she called. "Mr. Ashgrove, did you order the March test?"

Torsten didn't answer.

At the doors he turned, once, and looked back at my father.

My father looked at him.

It was the longest look I had ever seen pass between two men, and my father didn't say a word.

The doors closed.

The ballroom exhaled, and the band, who had no idea what to do, played something cheerful.

I found Lydia on the terrace after that, alone, by the stone rail.

She had taken her coat off and was holding it against her chest.

"Hattie," she said, without turning. "I don't know how to begin."

"You don't have to."

"I do." She turned. "I missed twenty-four years."

Her face was wet, and she didn't wipe it.

"I missed your first word. I missed every birthday."

She shook her head.

"I missed the day you learned to drive, and I'm told you drove a tractor at nine."

"Eleven."

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