“You said you had no children.”
“I said that.”
Patrice nodded once. The nod was not agreement. It was a receipt. She looked at the pie. Nobody was going to cut it. She picked it up, still in the tin, and carried it back to the kitchen. The carry was the only speech she trusted. Vanessa stayed at the chair. Derrick stayed at the head. The football game talked to an empty room.
In the kitchen Patrice put the pie on the stove and stood with her hands on the counter. Derrick came as far as the door. Vanessa did not follow. Following would have been a second sermon.