Junia had spent thirty years as a strict elementary-school principal, and she treated everyone around her like a child who needed correcting.

She fed on her son’s insecurity the way some people feed on affection.

“A decent wife greets her hardworking husband at the door with dinner already on the table,” she remarked one evening, setting her purse down.

“I also work forty hours a week to pay our bills, Junia,” Marlowe said gently, wiping the counter.

“A real woman manages her career and her household without complaining every single night,” Junia snapped.

And whenever Marlowe asked Desmond to stand with her against his mother, he turned up the television.