The buzz of the phone woke me up.
I stretched, which earned me an irritated snort from the cat that had joined me on the bed. “Sorry,” I said, giving Orion an apologetic chin scratch. It was only after she’d batted away my hand that I checked my phone. I had a text from Dad.
Have dinner with mom and me tonight
Interesting. I texted back.
Where?
At home. In an hour
K
I wasted the hour on the internet before skipping downstairs to the kitchen. It was empty but smelled good.
“In here,” Dad called.
I detoured into the formal dining room and halted on the threshold. The table had been set with china, silver, flowers, candles, a lace cloth, and napkins. Coq au vin and mashed potatoes steamed from bowls in the center.
Meals at the Tucker house were generally spent perched on stools at the bar or standing in the kitchen, shoveling food in alone. It had been so long since our family had a sit-down that I couldn’t remember the last time. Something was wrong.
I leaned against the door frame for support. “What’s going on?”
When Mom sent my dad a “you handle this” look, he shrugged. “We’re having a nice dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because we haven’t done this in a while.”
That couldn’t be the reason. It saddened me that I was reacting with suspicion, not pleasure. I pulled out the lone chair across from them and pasted on a smile. If they wanted to fake it, I could too. The three of us were together with amazing food on a beautifully set table. I would fixate on that. After serving myself some potatoes, I spooned chicken and sauce on top.
We didn’t bother with conversation while we ate. The only sounds were the clink of silver against dishes.
Dad cleared his throat. “Sara?”
I looked up from my plate. Here it came. “Yes?”
“Your mother and I have come to a major decision.”
“Okay.” The careful way he spoke made my skin prickle. “What is it?”
“We’re selling the house.”
The statement flashed through me like an electric jolt. Selling?This house?
His announcement stunned me. If I’d tried to imagine the worst possibilities behind our family dinner, I wouldn’t have dreamed up this one.
Maybe I’d misunderstood. “You’re selling our house?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“It’ll be listed by the end of the month.”
Excuse me?
I looked from him to my mother, who wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Could you add a few more details? Your motivation for the decision might be good.”
