Chapter 11: Filed

"After Christmas," I said. "No."

Marjorie's eyebrows rose a fraction.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You want me to wait until the twenty-sixth so the family gets its Christmas first. I've done that for seven years."

"Dawn, be reasonable. Kendra's wedding is in three weeks. Her father's knee. The cousins are coming up from Madison."

"I'm sure they are."

"If this comes out now, it will ruin everything for everyone."

"It already came out," I said. "You were standing here when it did."

She drew a breath through her nose.

For a moment I watched her decide whether to be hurt or furious.

She chose the one that cost her less.

"You're enjoying this," she said.

"I'm not. I'd like it if I'd been told the truth in the first year."

"Then let us handle our own son."

"You can handle him all you like," I said.

"But I won't sit in a corner at your table and pretend I wasn't robbed."

Nobody spoke.

Clinton did not look up from the floor.

Marjorie took her gloves from her bag, one finger at a time.

"I shall expect you Wednesday, then," she said, very cool. "Bring the coat."

She went out and down the steps, and Clinton followed her to the car.

I watched the white sedan back out of the drive, and I realized I was shaking all over.

Ellie came out of the kitchen with a dish towel twisted in both hands.

"I'm going to bake something violent," she said, and went back in.

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