"Nothing. It's just." Vivienne picked up her napkin. "Father used to insist we wait until everyone was seated."
The temperature in the room dropped about fifteen degrees.
Harlow's smile faltered. Sabrina's book closed with a soft sound. Cassidy's jaw tightened. Even Iris, who never met the man, seemed to feel the weight of his absence settle over the table.
"Well," Harlow said quietly. "We're all here now."
"We are."
Vivienne unfolded her napkin with careful movements. The rest of us followed. It felt weirdly ceremonial for a random Friday dinner.
Then Harlow ruined the moment by immediately piling food onto her plate like she was preparing for winter hibernation.
"Harlow," Vivienne said.
"What? I'm hungry."
"Use the serving fork."
"I am using the serving fork."
"You're stabbing the duck."
"It's already dead, Vivi."
