Patrick searched the faces around the room and realized, with sudden horror, that he had lost every last ally.

He dropped the papers onto the dining table, shoved open the wooden front door, and stalked out into the cold street.

I turned my back on the open doorway and looked straight at the man who had guarded our home for decades.

“Uncle Lucas,” I said softly, drawing out one of the wooden chairs from Mom’s chipped kitchen table.

“Please, come sit down with me.”

I went over to the stove and ladled out two steaming bowls of thick beef stew with carrots and dumplings.