“We are twenty minutes behind schedule,” Margaret said, her voice dry and clipped. “Let us move this into the dining room.”
Evan did not look at my face. He set the yellow diaper bag on the limestone floor, his fingers rubbing his collarbone where his blue silk tie was slightly crooked.
“These are the boys, Claire,” Evan said, his voice rising into a thin, defensive pitch. “This is Robert and Thomas. They were discharged from the Austin Medical Center this morning.”
“The birth certificates were registered yesterday in Galveston,” Leah whispered, adjusting a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.
I looked at the infants, their small faces identical and pale under the blue flannel blankets. The silence in the entry hall grew heavy, marked only by the steady, quiet ticking of my mother’s gold wristwatch on my left wrist.
“They have the Rowan chin,” Margaret said, tapping her heavy platinum ring against the marble console table. “There is no point in pretending otherwise.”
I did not raise my voice, choosing instead to adjust the gold strap of my watch.
“The company car is still idling in the driveway,” I said.
