“It’s… it’s been a difficult afternoon,” I said, stepping aside.

“Please, come in.”

Harold stepped into the hallway, stamping his feet on the mat to shake off the dampness.

He took off his cap, revealing his neat silver hair.

“I can leave if it’s a bad time,” he said, looking toward the kitchen.

“No,” I said, wanting his presence more than I cared to admit.

“Please stay.”

Rachel appeared at the end of the hallway.

“Hello, Harold,” she said, her voice tired but welcoming.

“Hello, Rachel,” Harold said with a polite nod.

“I hope I’m not intruding on a family matter.”

“No, it’s fine,” Rachel said, walking toward us.

“We actually could use some fresh air in here.”

We walked back into the kitchen, the tension still lingering in the air like dust.

Harold set his music folder on the table and looked from me to Rachel.

“Would you like some tea?” I asked, purely out of habit.

“No, Eleanor, sit down,” Harold said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder.

The warmth of his hand penetrated through my cardigan.