Milt thumped the table. “Hell’s teeth. This isn’t your way of telling us you’re gay, is it?”

“Calm down, Dad.” Kate glanced from Jack to her mother who was still staring into the distance as if she wasn’t actually present.

“Chill, Dad.” Laura shook her head, making the rainbow fluff out more. “If I was going to tell you I was gay I’d just tell you without any props.”

Kate winked at Laura then turned back to her dad. “There’s no way Laura is gay, Dad.”

“Look at all the boyfriends she’s had.” Bree smirked and wiggled her eyebrows.

“So now you’re suggesting I’m a tart.” Laura glared at them.

“That’s enough of that kind of talk.” Natalie pushed back her chair with force, making it teeter a moment before settling back on the floor.

Silence fell around the table once again.

“We’re only joking, Mum.”

Natalie’s face flushed at Bree’s snappish response. “Time for dessert.” She plucked up her plate.

“It smells good,” Milt said.

Kate picked up her own plate then reached for her father’s and the others passed theirs. She took the stack to the sink and opened the dishwasher. Her mother was taking an apricot pie from the oven.

“Girl talk,” Milt joked. “I’m always outnumbered here.”

“Oh, Dad,” Laura teased. “You love having a house full of women. It brings out your feminine side.”

“Humph!” Milt tried to look affronted. “Your father’s lucky to have you, Jack.”

Kate glanced at her mother as the pie dish thumped loudly on the wooden chopping board. Her jaw was rigid. “Are you all right, Mum? Shall I serve the pie?”

“I’m fine.” Natalie pulled her shoulders back and picked up a knife. “I’ll dish up. Pass the plates please.”

Natalie cut wedges of pie, levered them up and slapped them into the bowls. Kate had the feeling that everything was far from fine.

The bedside lamp illuminated the old book lying open on Natalie’s lap. She sat on the edge of the bed and behind her she heard Milt’s noisy, deep breaths. Not quite a snore but almost. He’d already been asleep by the time she’d finished in the kitchen and made her way to their bedroom. More words from the managing the home chapter surfaced as she glared at him. It is the model wife’s responsibility to provide her husband a happy home…the single spot of rest which a man has upon this earth for the cultivation of his noblest sensibilities.