Steve Henson didn't even look up from his phone. "Dad, come on, you know what he's like. Guy's a slacker. Always has been."
"Every time you ask him to do something, he drags his feet. When has he ever gotten anything done on time?"
Valerie Whitney set a fruit platter on the coffee table and let out a cold laugh.
"An outsider is an outsider. He could marry into this family, but you can't polish a turd."
"I told you from the start, Otis. When you bring in a live-in son-in-law, you'd better choose carefully. But nobody listened to me."
"And now look. Seven years of feeding and housing the man, and what do we have to show for it?"
Otis said nothing. He picked up his teacup and took a slow sip.
Felicity stared down at her own hands and stayed silent.
I stood around the corner of the foyer, just beyond the reach of the light.
No one in the living room knew I was home.
Steve spoke up again. "Seriously, sis, what did you ever see in him?"
"The guy's got nothing going for him. Family's from the middle of nowhere. Couldn't even scrape together a decent wedding gift."
"If Dad hadn't taken pity on him, he never would've set foot in this house."
Felicity's voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough. Stop."
"Am I wrong, though?" Steve set down his phone and sat up straight. "Look at Mr. Wang's son-in-law. The guy started his own import-export company. Pulls in millions a year."
"Now look at ours. Eats our food, lives under our roof, coasts through a few years at the company, and suddenly thinks he's somebody?"
"You ask him to write one business plan, and after two weeks he still can't squeeze out a damn thing. What good is he?"
Valerie chimed in. "That's enough out of you. Your sister knows the score."
"I'm just saying she deserves better."
Steve slumped back into the couch and picked up his phone again, thumbing back to his game.
The living room went quiet for a few seconds.
Felicity never said a word.
I stood where I was, listening to all of it, my face blank.
On the shoe cabinet by the entryway sat an umbrella. Felicity had told me to take it this morning. The forecast called for rain.
I looked at the umbrella.
Then I turned around, pushed the door open, and walked back out.
The door closed softly behind me. Barely a sound.
I drove to the driveway outside the villa and lit a cigarette.
The night wind blew in, carrying a slight chill.