When the Colonel Came to the Estate

“Very good, sir.”

He stepped aside, and the familiar marble hallway seemed longer than before.

Voices drifted from the sunroom, hushed and restless.

I caught fragments.

Overreaction. Embarrassing. Military people. Poor Wesley.

My father heard them too. He did not react.

Dana walked slightly behind me, while Captain Ortiz took in the angles of the room, not suspiciously, but attentively, as if every house told the truth if one knew where to look.

Wesley stood near the doorway when we entered.

His eyes found mine first, then June’s, then the people around me.

He looked as though he had spent the night aging.

“Nora,” he said quietly.

I nodded once.

Nearly everyone from the party had returned, though without champagne and laughter they seemed less impressive.

Cousins sat stiffly on cream sofas. Margaret’s daughters whispered near the windows. Wesley’s father, Charles Pembroke, stood beside the fireplace with one hand in his pocket and the other gripping the mantel.