I thought the conversation might end there.

Then Ruth moved toward the table to clear plates that had barely been touched.

Wendell snapped, “Stop hovering, Ruth.

You’re making us look ridiculous.”

The room changed again.

Not because of a rank or insignia, but because a man who had built his evening around honor had just humiliated the person who lived with him.

“Mom,” I said, “put the dish down.

Sit with me.”