Her voice was soft, pitched in the low tone she used when she wanted to sound reasonable.

“We both said some harsh things on Christmas Eve.”

“You locked my daughter in the pantry,” I said.

“It was a cooling-off period because she misbehaved over a dessert fork,” Margaret said, keeping her tone light.

“Don’t turn an ordinary discipline decision into some big scene, Clara.”

“She was six years old and sitting alone in the dark,” I said.

Margaret laid the pink envelope on top of the baking dish lid.