who had been invited into my home without my knowledge. The caterers moving carefully around a family that had grown comfortable spending money they had not earned.
Then I looked at Emma’s wet apron.
“I wanted to see what home looked like when no one had time to rehearse,” I said.
My mother’s expression tightened. “This is a misunderstanding.”
I almost laughed.
Five years away, and those were the first words they offered me.
Not welcome home.
Not we missed you.
Not Emma has suffered and we are sorry.
A misunderstanding.
Emma’s grip on my hand became faintly firmer, as if she knew I was close to losing control and was quietly asking me not to.
So I didn’t raise my voice.
“Dinner is over,” I said.
Michael’s smile vanished. “Come on, Daniel. Don’t be dramatic. We’re celebrating your return.”
“You didn’t know I was returning.”
