Chapter 135

• The Valco family was already gathered around the dining table, Rita glanced at the empty seat, her brow furrowing, and turned to Charlotte. "Honey, go upstairs and see what's keeping Howard—tell him dinner's getting cold."
• Charlotte nodded, pushing back her chair with a scrape. "Sure, Mom." She rose and spun toward the dim hall just as heavy footsteps thudded down the creaky stairs.
• Howard tugged at the collar of Steven's faded flannel shirt, the fabric pulling taut across his broad chest like it was fighting back. It was a size too small, borrowed from a man whose life was scraped by on factory shifts and mended hopes, worlds away from the tailored suits Howard wore like a second skin. He adjusted anyway, rolling his shoulders to loosen the strain, and eased into the rickety wooden chair beside Charlotte.