The dining room had not changed. Long table with dark wood and too many chairs for too few people. The chandelier was original, or so the story went, brought back from Valoria by her great-grandfather. No one had ever verified the story. No one questioned the stories in this house. The light pooled on the table and caught the silver. Outside, the hedges were overgrown. The fountain had been dry for years.
Joyce sat near Evelyn's end of the table. Yosef took the chair across from her. Julian slid in beside his mother, and Gio settled at the far end, quiet and watching, the way he always did.
Franz pulled out a chair for Arianne. She sat, and he took the seat next to her.
Evelyn lowered herself into the chair at the head of the table. Slow. She was not weak, just slow, the kind of slow that made everyone else wait.
Soup came. Pale green. Arianne picked up her spoon and put it down. She did not taste it.
