When the Colonel Came to the Estate

“I know.”

“Good,” my father said. “Because beginnings are easy.”

Margaret pushed back her chair.

“Are we finished being lectured?”

Charles looked tired.

“We are finished pretending nothing happened.”

She turned toward the windows, where the gardens shimmered in the heat.

“Wonderful. A revolution.”

No one answered.

That may have unsettled her more than argument.

For years, Margaret had turned every room into a stage by making others respond to her.

Silence denied her an audience.

Sophie crossed to me hesitantly.

“Nora,” she said, “I should have said something yesterday.”

Her voice trembled.

“I laughed because everyone laughed, and then I hated myself for it.”

I studied her young face, ashamed and earnest.

“Thank you for saying that.”

She swallowed.

“June is beautiful.”

I looked down at my daughter.

“She is.”

Sophie smiled faintly.

“She looks like she already knows things.”

“She does,” my father said, deadpan. “Mostly that adults are inefficient.”