CHAPTER 46

A scowl.

She drags me down to her five-foot-five height and closes her small fingers around the front of my shirt before planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. "You're not shaving."

For it is the way you welcome a son you haven't seen in a dozen years.

Grinning, I lead the way into the eating area. Are we going to sit?

The dining room with walnut and cherry floors is at least five times larger than it is necessary. The dining table is crowned by three elaborate, French-style burnished gold chandeliers that cast a warm, pink glow across the space. It appears warm and even cosy. However, it has never made for a cosy supper when we sit on opposite ends of a twelve-seater table.

Everybody has a place.

With his back to the commanding fireplace, Dad would consistently take the first chair at the head of the table. Mom has always occupied the seat across from him. Leandro would take a seat in the chair across from me after waiting to see which of the five open seats on the longest side of the t