Boys asleep, he asked, she nodded. Just now.
He reached for a glass from the cabinet, poured water from the fridge. The hum of the appliances filled the silence. There was something in the air.
Not tension, but the kind of space that forms when something hasn’t been said yet. Evelyn didn’t bring it up. Neither did he.
But when she started to leave, he asked,
“What was the card?” She turned slowly. “Pardon.” “The one John gave you?” he said, not looking up. “I saw it.” She hesitated, her fingers tightened slightly.
“They invited me to the Mother’s Day tea,” she said gently. No pressure, just a question. His jaw flexed, not with anger, but something closer to discomfort.
Noticing something too late. And you said yes. I said I’d go if the school allows it. He nodded once.
A long pause followed. Then he set the glass down. They asked the maid to stand in for Margaret, he said flatly. more observation than question, but the words were cold in the air. Evelyn’s breath caught.
I didn’t ask them to, she said, quiet, but steady. I didn’t expect it either
. I just I didn’t want to hurt them. Jonathan’s face didn’t change. He wasn’t cruel, but something behind his eyes pulled back. You know how people are, he muttered. Parents, the board.
That school lives on reputation. This could be misunderstood. Evelyn swallowed hard.
I understand, she said. I haven’t spoken to the school yet. If you’d prefer, I don’t go.
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