“We’ll think about it.” I suddenly understood more about the family dynamic that’d made Trevor’s childhood so difficult. “Trevor, clear the table.” Lilith rose and carried the glass dish of mostly uneaten noodle casserole into the kitchen. “Yes, ma’am.” Trevor didn’t move, but the plates flew one after the other into the kitchen behind her, stacking neatly on the counter next to the sink. Her shout of surprise made all three of us shake with silent laughter. After dinner, we made our excuses fairly quickly. “You’re not staying the night?” Archer frowned. “We can roll a cot for you into the scrapbooking room, and Maddie can have the couch.” And that’s how Trevor found out that his grandmother had turned his bedroom into the “scrapbooking room.” I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt him try to push past the stumbling block of emotional pain that caused.
