“Yes,” Eleanor said, “she did.”
Silence stretched. A bee worked the jacaranda. Harrison picked at a loose thread on his jeans.
“She’s embarrassed,” he said. “In front of everybody.”
“Good.”
“Ma.”
“She embarrassed me in front of everybody first. With her hip. With her mouth. With a watch bought with money that was supposed to come back to this house.” Eleanor’s voice stayed even. “You told me eighteen hundred for a bridge. You bought her a bridge to nowhere and put it on her wrist.”
Harrison’s shoulders drew in. “I was going to tell you.”