Lonnie showed no reaction, so I said, “What does that mean?” to cut the silence.

Robert said, “I’m going to be running the business with James. And when I retire, I’ll hand it down to him, though of course”—he looked at James—“I’ll still be the primary shareholder.”

“Oh,” I said. “Congratulations, James.”

“Thank you, Elle.”

I chewed my steak slowly, took tiny sips of wine. Lonnie looked miserable across the table from me. I wanted to find a way to show my allegiance, but I couldn’t reach her. She didn’t look up.

I discreetly peeked under the lip of the table. Her feet were curled under her chair, her ankles crossed. I could reach them if I scooted forward a little, my ass on the edge of my seat. In one swift motion I gave her a sharp kick in the shin. She jumped, looked up. As I met her blank eyes with a smile, William started to wail. He’d dropped his spoon on the Oriental rug beneath the table and was mourning the loss. Everyone turned to me. Robert, I noticed, wore an amused smile.

“Sorry,” I said, bending to pick it up. It left a smear of food in the wool pile of the rug. I tried to wipe it up with my napkin but only succeeded in pushing it deeper into the fibers.

Reunited with his spoon, William happily began to bang the table again. I sat back up, pressing his arm down again, holding it to the table and saying, “Shh, William, no.”

Tired of being rebuked and conscious of his sudden command of attention, he yelled at me, a high-pitched screech.

“He has something to add.” Robert laughed.

22

WHEN I PUT WILLIAM TO BED THAT NIGHT, HE HAD A HARD TIME falling asleep. “Let him cry,” Lonnie said. “He needs to get used to the new house. He needs to know the rules aren’t different here.”