The entire dining hall went dead silent. All the color drained from Clara's face. Her hands shook around her knife and fork—none of that earlier smugness or coyness remained. She glanced instinctively at Dad.
The smile froze on his face. He hesitated for a split second, then quickly schooled his features back into that familiar gentle mask. "You… I thought you were going to Hawaii. What are you doing here?"
Mom didn't speak right away. She held my hand and walked slowly toward them. "What's wrong, Mr. Ashworth? Are Vivian and I not allowed to be at our own estate? Or did we interrupt your… private time with... this Mrs. Ashworth?"
Dad shot to his feet. "Honey, you've got this all wrong! This—this is Clara Bennett. Her husband was a college classmate of mine. She's a widow now. She's her
