It was a self-aware, slightly rofal thing. Because I was doing the same thing you were doing. Showing up to the table and keeping my mouth shut because that's what was expected. He straightened. I'm done with that.
He extended his hand. Not romantically, the way men do when they've decided to be straight with each other. Clare looked at it for a moment. Then she reached up and shook it. Thank you, she said.
Don't thank me, Andrew said. Just figure out what you actually want. That's all I'm asking. He nodded once at Marcus. Then he turned and walked back toward the corner table.
Halfway there, Marcus saw him say something to his father. Thomas Whitmore's expression did not change. But his shoulders did just barely, just a fraction the way a man's do when he's absorbing news he doesn't like but can't argue with. Marcus turned back to Clare. She was staring at the empty space where Andrew had been standing.
I had him completely wrong. She said, "Yeah, Marcus said, I made him into a symbol of everything I was afraid of, and he was just," she shook her head. "He was just a person. " "That happens," Marcus said. "When we're scared, we stop seeing people clearly. We see what they represent, not who they are. " Clare turned to look at Marcus.
"Are you a therapist? " Auto mechanic, he said. She let out a short laugh that was also almost a sobb. "Unemployed auto mechanic," he added. And that made her laugh properly, and he felt something loosen in the room. Some pressure that had been building for an hour, releasing all at once.
But it didn't last long because Viven was standing up. This time, she wasn't walking over with that pleasant measuring smile. This time, she was walking with purpose, moving between tables with the kind of directness that clears a path. Thomas Whitmore stayed seated. Andrew, back at the table, looked at his own hands.
She pulled out the chair Andrew had approached from and sat down in one motion. No preamble, no pleasantries. Clare, she said. I think we need to stop pretending this is a normal dinner. Grandma, no.
Viven held up one hand. The gesture was not aggressive. It was definitive, like a judge calling order. I have been patient. I have given you the evening and I have watched you sit at this table with someone I've never met and I have watched Andrew come over and whatever was said over here.
The fact of the matter is she looked at Marcus. I don't know you, Mr. Reed. No, ma'am. Marcus agreed.
You don't. My granddaughter doesn't know you either. She didn't 2 hours ago. He said people change that. Vivien's eyes narrowed slightly.