Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

that made the hot soup feel heavy in my stomach.

Julian finally cleared his throat, though he still avoided my eyes.

“It might be worth a visit, Mother,” he said, his voice flat and evasive.

I set the soup ladle down with a sharp clink against the side of the tureen. “Who said anything about me leaving my home?”

Nobody answered. Nicole reached for her continue reading …