Chapter 18: The Truce Lunch

Conal walked me to the Lowell gate and stopped at the bars.

"I can't go in," he said.

"I know."

"If you want out, say my name."

"I'll say it so loud, they'll hear it in the harbor."

He kissed my forehead, and I walked up the drive alone.

The Lowell house had a long dining room with a long table.

Gisela sat at the head of it in a gray silk blouse and her pearls.

Torben sat at the foot, in his navy blazer, with his hands folded.

He didn't look at me.

"Isla, dear." Gisela rose and kissed the air beside my cheek. "Thank you for coming. Sit."

I sat in the middle, halfway between them.

A houseman poured wine. I did not touch mine.

"Torben came home on Thursday," Gisela said, and smiled down the table at her son. "He's been so ashamed. Haven't you, darling?"

"Yes, Mother."

"He's agreed to sit with us today and say nothing at all. A son's apology is a quiet thing."

Torben said nothing.

His right hand lay on the white cloth with the knuckles drawn tight, and I knew what he was doing.

I took a sip of water and tried to look like a woman with no plan.

"I think we've all been unkind," Gisela said. "I'd like to put it right."

"That would be generous."

"Forty-one thousand dollars. Back on your card by Monday. The caterers' bills dropped. Your name cleared in the registry."

"In exchange for what?"

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