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Elisabeth was sitting on the couch watching television when Shawn walked into the room. He’d been avoiding her, and she’d been fine with that. She loved his dad and didn’t mind his clumsy attempts at conversation, but she wasn’t quite ready for more.
Thanksgiving dinner had been spent with a crew of Sam’s friends, none of whom knew her all that well, and the average age of the crowd had been about seventy-five, so she’d felt entirely comfortable helping out in the kitchen with a bunch of ladies who rivaled Mrs. Miller in caustic wit and blunt humor. She disliked football and hadn’t joined the loud party around the large-screen television in the family room, but had been content to stay in the background, eating pie and listening quietly to conversation about grandchildren. When they’d
