Petra’s composure collapsed.
“You don’t understand what it is like to be the one who has to plan for everything.”
“No,” Lenora said. “I understand exactly what it is like. I also understand that planning is not the same as owning people.”
Petra stared at her mother.
The dining room door opened a crack. Mara stood there holding her broken purple crayon.
“Grandma?” she asked.
Every adult went silent.
I rose from my chair.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
She crossed the room and took my hand. Her palm was warm.
“Is Grandma Petra mad?”
Petra looked at the child. Something flickered across her face, but it did not become tenderness. It became fear.
“I’m not mad at you,” she said.
Mara glanced at me.
“Are we still having dessert?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes,” I said. “We are still having dessert.”
Petra picked up her coat.
“I’m leaving.”
Martin rose.
“We are coming with you.”
“I can drive myself.”
“No,” he said. “Not tonight.”
Dex watched her walk toward the entryway.
She stopped beside him.
“You are really going to let her destroy us?”
Dex’s jaw worked.
“You did that yourself.”
Petra looked as if he had struck her.
Then she opened the door. Cold air moved through the house, carrying the smell of snow.
