Dad kept his eyes on the board. “Did she say anything you want to talk about?” His voice remained neutral.

I countered with a one-shoulder shrug. “Not really.”

He moved a piece and tapped his finger against his chin. Several moments of nothing followed before Dad said, “Mamma mentioned a group of you are going to see the reindeer ranch tomorrow.”

And that was that for the Mom Talk.

Won’t lie, I was relieved. And, yeah, that made me a chickenshit but the last thing I wanted was to hear the words “We’re getting a divorce” said aloud. They hadn’t been. Yet. Maybe I’d get lucky and they wouldn’t ever be. Deep down, I knew the odds were against me.

“Yep.” I moved a piece. A pawn. A2 to A4. Basic.

“Your friend from school and his aunt are going, too.”

“He’s not my friend. We just go to the same school.”

Now Dad looked up at me. “Didn’t you two go shopping together earlier?”

“Because Grandma Jo asked me to go with him. His aunt was sleeping off jet lag.”

Dad frowned. “If you’re not friends then what’s he doing here?” he asked, moving one of his pawns up two squares.

Another shrug. I looked at the board and moved my rook up to A2.

“That seems odd.” I glanced up to see him watching me with concern. “He’s not . . . giving you trouble, is he?”

I laughed when I realized what Dad meant. It was sweet to see him get protective, but “No.” Not like that was what I wanted to add, but refrained. Arthur was many things but I had a hard time envisioning him stalking anyone. For some reason it was important for me that Dad didn’t let his thoughts go in that direction. “He and his aunt Esha wanted to go somewhere nice for an American Christmas, and, you know, he heard about our town’s name, so . . .” I let the rest roll unsaid.

Dad relaxed and nodded. “How disappointing for them,” he murmured, a wry tug at the corner of his mouth. His focus was back on the board, so he missed seeing my eyes widen for a second at the understatement.

“I’m going to take them around town,” I added. “Show them some of the less embarrassing parts so it’s not, you know, a total bust.”

“Got it. Hence the reindeer ranch.”

“Yep.”

“That’s nice of you.”

I chose not to correct him.

Dad moved his bishop to my A2, took my rook, and I frowned, realizing I needed to pay more attention.

“Are you okay with him being here?”

“Sure.”

Suddenly the image of Arthur trying on the jeans earlier today sprang to mind and I felt momentarily distracted . . . But thoughts of Arthur also reminded me of my need to raise the subject with Dad about not returning to Barrington, which filled me with dread.