“The foreseeable future,” I said.

“His words. Well. Her words.”

The housekeeper came through with a tray, and Robert waved it off.

He had the look he gets when he is deciding how much to say.

Fifty years in the same chair gives a man a face like a closed door, and my father’s door had been closed to Aaron since midsummer without my noticing it.

That was the part that sat wrong.