Chapter 5: Sunday Dinner

The Ellery dining room seated twelve, and on Sunday it held five of us and a lot of silver.

Eleanor sat at the head with a wooden spoon beside her plate.

Scott sat on her right in a charcoal suit, and he did not look at me when I came in.

Lydia sat on his other side, in my old chair from every Sunday of the last three years.

Dillon stood to pull out the seat across from her.

"Marcella, you came," he said. "I'm glad."

I sat between him and Eleanor.

Lydia smiled at me across the table, shy and sweet.

"I hoped you'd come," she said. "I've wanted to say sorry properly, with no cameras."

"Thank you," I said.

I had no reason to dislike her, and I held on to that.

She had done nothing but be kind to me, twice.

Scott lifted his water glass and said nothing.

The housekeeper brought soup.

Lydia leaned toward Eleanor. "Let me, please. You sit."

She stood, ladled a bowl for Eleanor first, then one for me, and put a napkin in my lap before I could do it myself.

"You'd make a good nurse," Dillon said.

"I was one, in London," Lydia said. "For a year. It didn't suit me, but I like looking after people."

"It suits you now," Dillon said, and raised his glass. "To family. And to the newest Ellery, who we all can't wait to meet."

Nobody drank.

Eleanor put her spoon down.

"Dillon," she said.

"Grandmother, it's good news. Let's be glad about it."

"It's news," Eleanor said. "I'll decide what else it is when I've heard from my grandson."

She turned her head.

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