She called on birthdays, visited occasionally, accepted what he offered without quite acknowledging that he was the one offering it. He told himself it was enough. Most days he almost believed it. That was the shape of things when Diane brought Samuel home for the first time.
It was a Sunday dinner, arranged by Diane with the brisk efficiency she applied to everything — a time, an address, a reminder not to be late. Ray had cleaned the house and cooked a proper meal and shaken Samuel Voss’s hand at the front door with an open mind he half expected to close within the hour. It didn’t close.