“Monica, dear,” Eleanor said, stepping inside and brushing her cold cheek against mine. “It is freezing out there.”

“Come in,” I said, stepping back to let them enter the warm hallway. “Let me take your coats.”

Arthur stepped inside, his expression grim.

He did not look at me; his eyes were already searching the hallway for his son.

“Where is Derek?” Arthur asked.

“He is in the dining room,” I said. “We were just discussing some business.”

Arthur nodded, his jaw set in a tight line.

He unbuttoned his overcoat and handed it to me without a word.

Eleanor slid her mink coat off her shoulders, revealing a conservative navy blue dress.

“I hope we are not late,” she said, smoothing her skirts. “The traffic on the highway was dreadful.”

“You are right on time,” I said.

I hung their coats in the entryway closet, my movements deliberate and calm.

I could hear Derek’s footsteps approaching from the dining room.

He walked into the foyer, his face composed into a stiff, artificial smile.

“Mother, Father,” Derek said, his voice tight. “Thank you for coming.”