Chapter Text
Sam watches from the door as Susan walks her well-bundled children to the car, leans over to speak with Timothy’s parents, then stands -- hands in her pockets, hair blowing across her face -- as the black sedan pulls away.
Is it Sam’s imagination that, as she turns, something in Susan’s face clears when she sees Sam standing there?
“Come inside,” she hooks an arm in Susan’s elbow as Susan comes through the door. As if, she tells herself firmly, Susan were an old school friend. “I’ve just put the kettle on. Nothing we can’t fix with tea and Mr. Valentine’s shortbread”