In-Laws Take the Head of the Table

The smell of rosemary and garlic filled the kitchen, and I had been cooking since six that morning. Nine years of marriage had taught me that Margaret and Harold Bexley expected perfection, and I had learned to deliver it. The roast was resting on the counter, the table was set with the good china, and I had already hidden the stack of invoices I had been reviewing in my office before they arrived. "Nora, they're here," Daniel called from the front hall. I wiped my hands on the apron and walked out to greet them. Margaret stood in the doorway like a general inspecting a garrison, her gray hair swept into a perfect chignon, her eyes moving past me to evaluate the house. Harold followed with two large suitcases, which he set down without being asked. "Mother, Father, welcome," I said, and stepped aside to let them in. Margaret's cheek was cool and dry against mine. "The drive was dreadful. Traffic on the coast road for miles." "I'm sorry to hear that. Lunch is almost ready." "Lunch," Harold repeated, as if the word were foreign. "We ate on the road. But I suppose we can sit with you." Daniel took their coats and hung them in the closet. He had been quiet all morning, more quiet than usual, and when I caught his eye he gave me a small smile that did not reach his face. We sat in the living room. Margaret chose the wing chair Daniel usually occupied, which put her at the head of the room with the fireplace on her right. Harold took the sofa. I sat across from them, and Daniel stood by the window. "We have some things to discuss while we're here," Margaret said. "Family matters." "Of course," I said. "How long are you staying?" "Through the summer," she said. "Perhaps longer. Harold's back has been troubling him, and the city air in Charleston doesn't agree with him anymore." I looked at Daniel. Two weeks. He had told me two weeks. "That's a long time," I said carefully. "You'll hardly notice," Margaret said. "We'll keep to ourselves. We don't need entertaining." Daniel shifted his weight. "Nora runs the business now, Mother. She's busy. But we'll make it work." "Busy," Margaret said, and smiled at me. "Nora, dear, I'm sure you can find time for family. After all, what is a business compared to blood?" The roast was dry by the time we got to the table. I said nothing. Harold sat at the head of the table, which had always been Daniel's seat. Margaret sat to his right, in the chair I normally used. I sat at the other end, across from my husband, and passed the dishes in silence. After lunch, Daniel carried their bags to the guest room, the one I had spent three weeks painting last spring, the one I had planned to turn into a home office for the winter. Margaret stood at the doorway and looked around. "This will do," she said. "The light is better in the master, but I suppose we shouldn't displace you." "You should rest," I said. "You've had a long drive." When I returned to the kitchen, I found the stack of invoices I had hidden that morning spread across the counter. Harold was standing there, reading them through his glasses. "Harold, those are private." "Nonsense. Daniel's business is family business. I'm just getting caught up." He set the papers down. "I see you've been running things since the restructuring. Bold move, taking on that kind of responsibility." "I didn't take it on. Daniel asked me to." "Of course he did." Harold smiled, and there was something behind it I could not name. "Well. We'll talk more later." That night, in the dark of our bedroom, I lay on my side facing the wall and listened to Daniel breathe. He was not asleep either. "Two weeks," I said. "I know." "You told me two weeks." "I know. They changed their mind." "And you didn't think to tell me?" He was quiet for a long moment. "They're my parents, Nora. They're old. This might be the last chance they have to be part of our lives." "They live four hours away. They could be part of our lives any weekend we choose." "It's not the same." I turned to look at him. The moonlight came through the window and caught the side of his face, and he looked tired, older than he had this morning. "What aren't you telling me?" I asked. "Nothing. Go to sleep." But I lay awake for a long time afterward, listening to the house settle, listening to Harold cough in the guest room, listening to the sound of my own marriage not making the noise it used to make. The next morning I woke at five, as I always did, to review the client emails before breakfast. When I walked into my office, the door was open and the light was on. Margaret was sitting at my desk, the accounts spread in front of her, my laptop open and glowing. "Good morning, Nora," she said. "I hope you don't mind. Harold and I have been thinking about how to be helpful while we're here, and I thought I'd get familiar with the books." I stood in the doorway. "That's not necessary." "Oh, it is. Daniel works so hard. He shouldn't have to carry everything alone. Family should share the load." She closed the laptop and stood, smoothing her dress. She walked past me into the hall, pausing at my shoulder. "You've done well, dear. But you've had it easy. When Harold and I built the company from nothing, we did it with our own hands. No computers. No fancy spreadsheets. Just grit." She smiled. "It's important to remember where things come from." I waited until she was gone, then closed my office door and sat down in my own chair, and I did not realize until an hour later that my hands had been shaking the entire time.