The fruit was handpicked by Karen early this morning from the grocer’s–only the finest selection, with every kind imaginable. All the guests today had sung its praises, even asking to take some home. There was no way, as Magda imed, that it was sour or unptable.

    When Alessia walked over, Magda was still making faces at the fruit. Alessia had no intention of humoring her. She nced at the half–empty fruit tter, then picked it up without hesitation.

    “What do you think you’re doing?” Magda snapped, her expression darkening.

    “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to be so picky with your food?” Alessia replied, her tone dry as she eyed the tter, now a mess from Magda’s prodding.

    Looking at the fruit, riddled with little fork marks, Alessia stepped on the pedal of the trash can and dumped the rest of the fruit straight in.

    “You!” Magda leapt up, but one look from Alessia–cool, edged with warning–stilled

    her.

    Grinding her teeth, Magda tossed her fork onto the table with a tter, powerless to do anything more than vent her frustration in small gestures.

    “Do you need imported mineral water too? Sorry, we don’t keep any in the house. Wouldn’t want our tap water to offend your delicate pte,” Alessia said, pouring the ss of water out into the tray right in front of Magda.

    “Karen! Is this the daughter you raised?” Magda exploded, pping her palm on the tabletop as she stood, the sudden movement making Karen jump in rm.

    “Of course she is,” Alessia replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

    “Magda, sit down.” Hamilton rapped his cane on the floor, seeing the tension thickening in the room.

    Though still seething, Magda obeyed, shooting Alessia onest re before sitting down again.

    Alessia, unbothered, settled herself onto the nearby sofa.

    “I must bsay/b, I didn’t expect you to buy this house back,” Hamilton remarked, sipping his water and ncing around at the remodeledyout. His tone was neutral, almost indifferent.

    “That’s right. Ethan did well–bought it back himself. The kids worked together on

    09:59 W

    the renovations,” Brendan replied.

    “Better than you ever managed,” Hamilton retorted.

    The Mortons exchanged awkward nces.

    “Unlike the two of you, still unable to enjoy a peaceful retirement. Seems the entire Quincy n is still clinging to your apron strings, waiting to be spoon–fed,” Alessia added, unafraid to say what Brendan and Karen wouldn’t.

    Brendan tried to steer the conversation back. “So, what brings you both here today?” he asked. He doubted these two stubborn elders had suddenly had a change of heart–not after all these years, not even when the Mortons had been at their lowest. The Quincys had never once reached out a hand ito /ihelp; nowi, /itheir sudden visit clearly had an ulterior motive.

    Sure enough, Hamilton’s gaze settled on Alessia.

    “I heard your youngest got into Berlington Elementary. Was that your doing?”

    The Mortons froze, but stayed silent. If the conversation was directed at them, they’d have no fear–but it was clear the real target was Alessia. They didn’t dare nod, worried they’d make trouble for her.

    “Yes. Is there a problem?” Alessia answered before anyone else could.

    “At an art exhibit a few days ago, I ran into Charlie Linden–Berlington’s headmaster. He mentioned you. What’s your rtionship with him?” Hamilton pressed.

    “What do you think?” Alessia shot back coolly.

    “My nephew was studying art abroad, but things are unstable there now. We want him toe back and enroll here. I’ve looked into Berlington; it’s a fine school, but he’ll need a rmendation. Since you’re so well–connected, you can write one for him,” Hamilton said, as if he were asking for nothing out of the ordinary.

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