Sarah spent the night before the dinner barely sleeping. She ran through every version of the evening she could imagine. She worried there was an explanation she’d missed. That she would sit in that room and discover she had made a terrible mistake about her own sister.
At the dinner, Diane had set the table carefully. Twelve family members settled into seats with the particular politeness of people navigating known tension. Sarah took the chair nearest the door. Uncle Paul was across from her. He hadn’t spoken to her in four months, but gave her a small, uncertain nod.