A murmur passed through the guests. Not loud. Not brave. But audible.
Darnell’s jaw clenched. “You’re making me sound like a monster.”
Lenora held his gaze.
“No. I’m telling the truth. If that makes you sound like one, that belongs to you.”
Beverly suddenly stepped in front of her son, as if she could still rescue the family performance by controlling the tone.
“Lenora, sweetheart,” she said, and the word was so false it seemed to sour the air. “This has been a terrible misunderstanding.”
Lenora turned toward her slowly.
For five years, Beverly had never called her sweetheart unless other people were listening.
“You called me dead weight ten minutes ago.”
Beverly’s face flickered. “I was upset.”
“You called me a charity case.”
“I didn’t know who you were.”
There it was.
Plain. Naked. Worse than any insult.
Lenora felt the room hear it too.
