That was what he did to his son’s fraud, at a folding table, at eleven o’clock at night, without raising his voice once.
Chapter 7 — Ten O’Clock Sharp
Harlan came back to the kitchen, took out his phone, and dialed his son.
“Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock, you are going to be sitting at this kitchen table,” he said into the receiver.
“Dad — look, let me explain —”
“Ten o’clock sharp, Weston.”
He hung up.
Harriet watched Blythe close her eyes, as though the fact that her own son had lied to her for eight months was only now finishing its slow work of crushing her.
And none of them had any idea what Weston was going to bring with him in the morning.
Chapter 8 — Pancakes
By six the next morning, Blythe was already in the small kitchen making pancakes with the flour she’d bought the night before.
Etta chattered without pause — about school, about a girl in her class who wore enormous hair bows, about a teacher who smelled like vanilla.
Emmett barely touched his plate.
He knew his father was coming, and it turned his stomach.