David joined us in the kitchen for a supper of thick lentil soup, but every few minutes the phone would ring in the library and he would get up to answer it. Each time, when he returned, he looked increasingly anxious. Helena kept glancing out into the backyard, and when Kate tried to talk to her, she hardly listened. “You two went on a Mediterranean cruise last winter, didn’t you?” Kate asked her. “What?” “I just wondered if you enjoyed it.” “Oh . . . yes. We didn’t care for the other passengers much . . . kept to ourselves. But the food was very good. And so much.” “What cities did you visit?” Helena frowned, as if she hadn’t understood the question at all. But then she said, “Oh! Gibraltar, Barcelona, Ajaccio. Yes, we did enjoy it. But I don’t think we’ll ever do it again.” David came out of the library and sat down at the table. He stirred his soup for a moment, and then he pushed his bowl away. “Is everything all right?” I asked him. “What? Yes, I suppose so.
