Lucas made the call that evening.
He didn’t tell me until the following morning, a Friday text at seven forty-three that said simply: Call made. Meeting arranged for Monday. You and Lillian both. Location to follow.
I read it twice, put the phone face down on my nightstand, and lay on my back staring at the ceiling for four minutes before getting up. Four minutes was the amount of time I had allocated, apparently, for the specific sensation of something irreversible having been set in motion. After four minutes the sensation was still there but I had gotten used to its weight and could move around it.
I dressed and went downstairs.
The Friday morning kitchen was the fullest it got during the week. Victor ate breakfast at home on Fridays, a habit Margaret had enforced across the entire
