The Men Who Walked Out novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: Sunday Dinner

The housekeeper took my coat in the front hall and did not meet my eyes.

I had grown up in that house.

She had taught me to ride a bike on its gravel drive, and now she kept looking at the floor.

"They're in the dining room, Miss Daphne," she said quietly. "Your place is where it always is."

That was something.

My mother sat at the head of the long table with Gordon at her right.

Brent sat across from my empty chair, in a jacket I had never seen, with the ring pocket buttoned.

Dad's chair stayed empty, pushed in, at the foot.

Nobody had moved it.

"You came," Mom said.

"Gordon asked me to."

"I know." She lifted her glass an inch toward him.

"He told me this morning he'd invited you. I told him it was wise."

I sat.

The soup was the same cold pea soup she served at every family dinner, and nobody touched it.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Mom said.

She held up her glass.

"To family. Whatever else happens, to being at the same table."

Gordon raised his glass, and so did Brent.

I did not.

"To Dad," I said, "who isn't at it."

Brent shifted in his chair.

My mother put her glass down very slowly.

"Daphne. You came to eat. Eat."

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