Brandon set his tongs down on the grill and pointed them at my chair.

Before I had even unfolded my napkin, he said, “Sarah, we need the table for family business.”

Martha smoothed her linen apron across her lap. She didn’t look at me. David set his glass down.

“She is family, Brandon.” Brandon turned a burger with a metal spatula.

“There’s no reason for Sarah to sit in on private estate matters.”

The fat hissed on the coals.

Martha’s hands kept moving over her apron.

I counted four breaths in, four out. I had done that in the ring before every round.

“I’ll check the garden path,” I said. David started to stand.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to go,” he said. “I know.”

Brandon flipped another burger.