Chapter Three

Violet was sitting in my chair.

My father and Ethan were both leaning across the table to pile food onto her plate, talking over each other to ask if she liked it, if she was warm enough, if she needed anything else.

I looked at my empty space at the table, then turned to my mother.

"Am I eating on the floor tonight?"

The room went still.

My mother's hand closed around mine, squeezing harder than she probably meant to. "What — no, of course not. My fault entirely for not setting your place properly. Diane—" She raised her voice for the housekeeper. "Could you bring another chair for Rory, please?"

Violet rose halfway out of her seat, eyes wide and brimming with instant, practiced contrition.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize this was your seat. Let me move — please, take it back, I—"

Ethan reached over and pressed her gently back down. His eyes, when they came to me, were not gentle at all.

"Rory." His voice was controlled and patient in the way it always got when he was working to be reasonable. "A chair is a chair. Violet just got here — let's not make it a thing. Sit on my left. I'll be in the middle. Problem solved."

My parents said nothing. They simply looked at me and waited.

That silence was its own kind of answer.

I picked up the chair the housekeeper brought and dragged it to the far corner of the table, as far from all of them as the room would allow.

Ethan's fork paused halfway through a motion. He looked at me several times like he was about to say something, and each time chose not to.

The meal finished in a silence so specific it had its own texture.

As I pushed back to leave, my father cleared his throat.

"Rory. A moment."

I waited.

He turned his glass in his hands, found his smile, and began:

"You know Violet is younger than you and Ethan by a year. As her older siblings, it would mean a lot — to her and to us — if you both showed her a little extra kindness right now. She's just lost her birth parents. She needs family around her."

My mother picked it up smoothly: "We're not asking for anything dramatic. Just — give it a chance. Spend some time with her. You might surprise yourself."

The two of them exchanged a look across the table, each apparently hoping the other would say the next part first.

I waited them out.

"So?"

My mother blinked. She was not used to that tone from me.

My father sipped his tea. Then:

"The thing is — Violet just transferred here and she's struggling. Physically and emotionally. She doesn't know anyone. We thought — and we know it's a lot to ask — but what if you and Ethan moved down a year to be in her class? Just until she finds her footing. You'd both still be ahead of your peers."

He rushed to add: "Ethan's already on board. We just need your okay."

I looked at Ethan.

He looked at the table.