“There’s a comfortable one in the upstairs sitting area.

You can still hear everything.”

For a moment I could not speak.

I pictured myself sitting above the party, hearing strangers sing to my son through the floor.

Margaret had chosen a comfortable chair.

She had considered the upholstery, perhaps a side table for my coffee, and had somehow passed over the fact that I would be separated from the child whose birthday we were celebrating.

“Bring the card back,” I said.