But they had never struck my son.
“No,” I said. “I’m not enjoying it. I’m finishing it.”
Brandon cursed under his breath. “Who bought it?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“It is my concern when strangers are standing in my foyer telling my wife we have thirty days.”
“Then you should speak with them politely.”
Amber’s voice cracked with rage. “Thirty days? Franklin, do you understand what this will do to us socially?”
That was the sentence.
Not emotionally.
Not financially.
Not to our family.
Socially.
I closed my eyes for a moment. There it was, clean and ugly. The truth stripped of manners.
“You should have considered that before last night,” I said.
Brandon lowered his voice. “Dad. I made a mistake.”
“No. A mistake is missing a turn. A mistake is forgetting an appointment. You hit your father thirty times in front of your wife and guests.”
