“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil in my chest, and returned to the living room with a tray containing the cup of hot tea. When I returned to the living room, the atmosphere was still silent and tense. Mr. Harrison had not sat down. He was still standing in the middle of the room, rejecting Mark’s offer to sit on the sofa. Mark looked even more uneasy. Sweat was already soaking the collar of his shirt. Jessica stood next to Mark, trying to maintain a friendly smile, but her smile seemed forced as she was ignored. As I approached with the tray in my hands, Mr.