There it was.
A door closing.
I smiled too.
“Apparently.”
Lunch was served in the sunroom.
Victoria ate grilled salmon and spoke as if the previous evening’s refusal had never happened.
“I’ve decided the blue room will work for my sitting room.”
Adrian nodded.
“And we’ll move the antique desk from the library upstairs.”
“My father’s desk?”
Victoria dabbed her mouth.
“It doesn’t belong in that gloomy room.”
“It stays where it is.”
Adrian’s eyes moved toward me.
Warning.
Victoria noticed.
Her smile became thinner.
“We don’t need to start badly.”
I set down my fork.
“Start?”
“My transition.”
“Into my home?”
“Our family home.”
“You haven’t asked me.”
Victoria sighed.
“Eleanor, at some point maturity means understanding that not every decision requires a vote.”
I almost admired the sentence.
It revealed so much.
“What does require a vote?”
She looked irritated.
