Chapter 6: Aunt Dessa

The Bexley dining table seated twenty-four.

Gwendolyn had set two places at the foot, by the kitchen door, and laid them with the everyday plates.

"Family always sits at the far end," she told me warmly. "Ford likes it there. He always has."

Ford looked at the two plates and said nothing.

I pulled out his chair at the head of the table instead.

"Sit," I said.

"That's Lowell's."

"Then Lowell can pass me the salt."

Twelve Bexleys and in-laws watched me do it.

Ford sat down next to the empty chair at the head, and I sat on his left, and I put my napkin in my lap.

Preston came in last.

He had changed his shirt.

His hair was damp, and his jaw was tight, and when he saw where we sat he took a half step back.

"Preston," his father said from the doorway. "Say hello to your aunt."

It was the first thing Lowell had said since the lawn.

He was a heavy, slow man, and his voice was quiet.

Preston looked at me across the roast chicken.

"Hello," he said, "Aunt Dessa."

It cost him to say it.

"Hello, Preston," I said. "Pass the rolls, please."

He passed them.

Under the table, Ford's knee touched mine and stayed there.

The soup came, and the salad, and Gwendolyn asked the table about the weather on the lake.

Nobody talked about the lawn.

Everybody looked at me.

I ate my soup.

At seven-fifteen the front door opened and closed, and heels crossed the hall.

Kendra came in wearing the green dress.

She had done her hair, and she had put on lipstick, and she stood in the doorway with her chin up.

"Sorry I'm late," she said. "I wanted to wait until everyone was here."

Gwendolyn rose and pulled out the chair beside Preston.