“Don’t make this into some big drama,” Daniel said, his tone low and mildly concerned, as though he were explaining a delayed flight to a stranger.

“Just get the message.”

“You let her do this?” I asked, my voice flat in the silent room.

“For three weeks you’ve acted like a guest renting a room in this house,” Daniel said, laying the clippers on the corner of the nightstand.

“You come home late, you eat dinner downtown with men in suits, and you expect us to smile when you toss your purse on the counter.”

“It was the company’s promotion dinner,” I said.