"I am really looking forward to your menu, Miranda," I said, adjusting the napkin on my lap as I settled into my chair.
"Oh," Miranda replied quickly, avoiding my eyes. "It might not be perfect, but I hope you enjoy it."
"Come on, Mother," Lena sneered, no longer bothering to hide her irritation. "Why are you making a speech over food. We have dinner all the time and you never do this."
Miranda forced a laugh, though the look she shot Lena was sharp and brief. She took her seat beside the head of the table just as the staff she had hired moved in, placing the first dishes in front of us with careful hands.
I looked up from my plate and turned toward her. "Is your husband not around tonight, Miranda? I have not had the chance to meet him," I said, referring to Roland.
"Yes, yes," she said too quickly. "He is out of town for work."
Work, she said. I let the word sit before I followed up, as if I were only making conversation. "Where did he go?"
