“That’s right, he did,” Margaret said, her voice falling to a soft whisper.

“And he always said you had the sharpest eye for keeping his ledgers in order.

It’s time you had a proper workspace of your own in this house.”

She took a small brass key out of her apron pocket and set it down next to my fork.

“Is Daniel eating with us?” I asked.

“He’s downstairs parking his new utility vehicle,” Margaret said, glancing at the hall mirror.

“He picked up a bottle of imported red wine from the shop by the hotel.”