He cleared his throat, a slow, rasping sound that immediately silenced Brenda’s soft nodding.
“Oconomowoc weather isn’t for balcony plants,” Arthur said, his slow voice dragging across the words. “You need deep soil and proper roots if you want anything to survive the winters here.”
David rubbed the back of his neck, his thumb moving in a tight circle against his skin.
“Nora’s very good at keeping things alive, Dad,” David said, his words coming out in a quick, defensive rush. “She managed to revive that dying fern in my living room in less than a week.”
“Ferns are easy,” Arthur said, finally raising his eyes to mine. “They don’t require much discipline. Just a bit of water and a dark corner.”
The comment hung in the warm air, heavy and unanswerable, until Brenda cleared her throat and patted her knee.
“Well, I think it’s lovely that you tried,” she said, though her eyes remained fixed on Arthur’s stern face.
I twirled my silver signet ring around my pinky finger, the cool metal a small comfort against my skin as the silence settled back over the room.
