Even without inviting Gregory and Terese, Belinda and I have managed to host the most awkward morning-after brunch ever. Malcolm has pulled on his tuxedo trousers, and the outfit looks stylish and deliberate. But he squirms next to me in his chair like a small boy who’s nervous about the next words that might come from his father’s mouth.
Belinda is breezy in a sundress. I opted for jeans and one of the few blouses I own. I usually pair it with a blazer when we visit the one and only law firm in town. (Lawyers end up haunted more often than you might guess.)
If not for Sadie, I suspect the entire meal would have disintegrated into sullen silence. She sits next to Darien and has somehow kept the conversation going despite everyone else’s monosyllabic responses.
In fact, she’s in her elem
