“I had an errand in town,” I said, crossing to the porcelain sink to run warm water over my cold hands.

“Your father was looking for you earlier,” Martha said, in the soft, quietly passive-aggressive tone she always used when Arthur got frustrated.

“Julian had to carry his heavy oak desks upstairs with no help at all.”

“Julian has plenty of muscle,” I said, drying my hands carefully on a clean cotton towel.

Martha stopped the silver spoon and laid it on the folded paper napkin next to her saucer.

“I poured you a fresh cup of ginger tea, sweetheart,” Martha said, pointing to a steaming mug sitting by the salt shaker.