“A hundred and one point four.”

Margaret adjusted her collar again, her thumb snagging on the top pearl button.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Margaret said.

“A husband belongs with his family on Christmas Eve.”

“He couldn’t drive with a fever like that,” I said.

Margaret lowered her eyes to Lucy, who stood next to the hall tree twisting the loose thread on her sweater sleeve.

“Lucy,” Margaret said.

“Take your shoes off and sit down on the hall bench.”