“Can I bring you anything else, Mrs.

Whitman?”

“This is lovely, Arnel,” I said.

“Thank you.”

Arnel gave a small, respectful bow and stepped back toward the kitchen corridor.

“Arnel knows how to run a dining room,” Walt said, picking up his silver fork and tapping it against his cloth napkin.

June reached across the white linen tablecloth and took Walt’s right hand, giving his knuckles a gentle, reassuring pat under the edge of the table.

“When big family shifts happen, Claire, people spend far too much time trying to fix the broken pieces instead of sweeping them up.”