The Rusted Key
The next morning, Alvin walked through the grand front door of his parents’ home, pretending he had only just arrived in town, a busy son dropping in unexpectedly.
The moment Veronica saw him, her entire demeanor transformed, from the cold authority Alvin had heard through the window the night before into a sickeningly sweet hospitality.
“Alvin!” she cried, all warmth.
“Your parents are doing wonderful!
Derek and I have been taking such good care of everything.” Derek poured him a cup of coffee.
Carmen came in from the back hallway, and Veronica instantly called her “Mom,” in a tone of loving familiarity that Alvin, having heard her real voice the night before, found almost obscene.
Throughout breakfast, Veronica dropped her small, careful remarks, one after another, each one a brick in a wall she was building.