Five of us stand in the circular driveway, staring up at a huge, two story, Cape Cod style dwelling. Gideon glares at the front porch as if it told him off. When I reach for him, he moves away. Maybe he’s dealing with the same nervous tension that’s inside me, but the brush off stings. In the past, I’d call him out on it, but lately, I don’t have the energy. It’s easier to stuff the hurt. Pretend I misunderstood him. “You forgot about this place?” Dane asks. “Not forgot.” Gideon stalks to the back of the vehicle and swings the tailgate open. “It’s just not on my radar. Like I said, the place was my father’s getaway.” He riffles through a box of ledgers. His clipped tone makes the distinction between Nathan Maddox and himself very clear. A single crow flies across the sun. One for sorrow … The first line of the childhood poem I’ve always loved seems a bad omen today.
