“I am working at the bookstore,” Ethan said. “It pays the bills I have.”
“It does not pay for your room in this house,” Richard said, his voice rising slightly but remaining cold. “He is eighteen, Mary, and he needs to learn what the world is actually like.”
My hand shook, and the blue porcelain teacup slipped from my fingers, shattering against the linoleum.
White and blue shards scattered across the floor, one piece landing near the toe of Richard’s leather shoe.
Nobody moved to pick it up.
“I want him out,” Richard said, looking directly at me.
“Richard, please,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I looked at the broken porcelain.
“He has until noon tomorrow to pack his things and leave this house,” Richard said.
He checked his gold watch one last time, turned on his heel, and walked down the hallway toward the front door.
The sound of his car engine starting in the driveway was the only noise in the quiet kitchen.
