Dinner that night was less strained than I had feared. We all went straight to the dining room, which was convenient since I had no idea where my duffel had made its home. Dana seemed surprised that we weren’t dressing for dinner. (Jeanette’s response: “Please, dear, we’re all family tonight,” made me feel surprisingly warm and fuzzy). I kept my alcohol consumption down to a single glass of wine—the better to hold my tongue, and the better to get up early in the morning. I had a two-and-a-half hour drive to Boston to join my fellow Red Sox Nation citizens for batting practice before the game.
We all shuffled out of the dining room to the library after eating. Well, almost all. Bran and Dana had their heads together in the corner and seemed to be edging from disagreement toward argument. I
