Chapter 6: Sunday Lunch

On Sunday at two o'clock I walked back into the Drummond house.

The housekeeper opened the door and went white.

"Miss Eden," she whispered.

"Just Eden now. Is there a way in for a chair?"

She pointed around the side of the house, where two men were laying a wooden ramp over the garden steps.

Adele had ordered it, I guessed, so the guests could watch her be kind.

Conroy came up the ramp without help and said nothing about it.

The dining room table was set for twelve.

There were eight guests already seated.

I knew them all from charity lunches, the chairman of Howard's board and his wife and four of the directors and one retired judge.

At the head of the table sat Howard, pink and smiling.

At his right sat Poppy, in a green dress that was too long for her.

At Poppy's right sat Adele, and Poppy's place card read: Our Daughter.

I saw Poppy's hands under the tablecloth, twisting the napkin.

Adele rose to greet us.

"Conroy. Eden. How lovely that you came. I was afraid there might be some awkwardness."

"There may be," I said.

I walked around the table and stopped behind the chair beside Poppy.

It was the one next to Adele's, the one meant for the family.

I pulled it out and sat down.

Conroy rolled into the gap at the foot of the table, where a place had been cleared for him.

Nobody said a word.

A waiter put soup in front of me with a hand that shook.

Adele sat down slowly.

"Of course," she said, "you are welcome to the chair. You've been in it all your life."

"I know."

"I think we should all say the obvious thing out loud," Howard said, in his big warm voice. "A child has come home. We are very happy."

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