“It’s handled,” I said.
“Handled how? There are 20 extra people, Madison.”
“I know,” I said mildly. “I counted.”
She frowned at my tone but couldn’t quite locate what was wrong with it.
Behind her, Harley leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me the way you watch a fuse you can’t see the end of.
“Well,” Diane said, straightening her blouse. “Let me at least direct people to the dining room. It’s almost time.”
“Please,” I said. “Go ahead.”
She swept past me into the hall, calling out for everyone to gather, clapping like a hostess on a cruise ship.
Aunts and cousins and neighbors funneled behind her, laughing, hungry, already reaching for their phones to photograph the spread they were sure was waiting.
Harley stepped closer to me.
“Madison,” he said quietly. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I let her have her day.”
Don’t miss
“That’s not nothing.”
“It is this year.”
He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t.
Down the hall, Diane’s voice rose, herding the crowd like sheep toward the double doors of the dining room.
“Come on, everyone. You’re going to love this. Madison always sets a beautiful table. I taught her how.”
