She looked at him for a long beat. No, she said. It's not. They were at the shop Marcus' garage space at the marina, which is where he'd had Earl take the pontoon motor in the bed of his truck that afternoon when the Bennett arrived. It was closer to 4:00.
The light was going flat and gray. The way Tennessee light goes in the late afternoon after a storm, and the air off the river smelled like wet soil and cold water. Marcus had the garage bay open and was setting the reinstalled motor on the test stand when he heard the cars on the gravel, two of them, which he noted. He looked up. Earl sitting on a crate with a coffee thermos looked up, too.
Clare was behind Marcus writing something on the scheduling board on the wall and she heard it too. She capped the marker. She didn't turn around immediately. She took two slow breaths. He saw her chest move and then she turned and walked to stand beside him.
"Here we go," she said quietly. Walter Bennett stepped out of the first car. 63 years old, silver-haired, the kind of man who wore a sport coat on a Saturday, not because he had anywhere to be, but because it communicated something about how he believed himself to be received. He looked at the open garage bay, looked at Marcus, looked at Clare, and came forward with the measured deliberate stride of a man who was always arriving, never just showing up. From the second car came Marcus' former fianceé.
Vanessa Bennett was 33 years old and had always been precisely put together in a way that was either natural or the result of intense effort. And Marcus had never been sure which. She was wearing dark trousers and a light coat, and her hair was done. And her face was what it always was, composed, beautiful and communicating absolutely nothing. She met Marcus's eyes for exactly one second before she shifted her gaze to Clare.
Their mother, Eleanor, got out of the passenger side of Walter's car, smaller than Marcus remembered, and gripping her handbag with both hands, the way women grip things when they're preparing to be upset. Earl looked at Marcus. Marcus looked at Earl. Earl picked up his thermos and very quietly stood. Walked to the back of the garage and made himself scarce.
Walter stopped 10 ft from the garage entrance. Clare. Dad. Her voice was even. I'd like to talk to you outside.
We can talk here. She didn't move. Walter's gaze moved to Marcus. A long look. The kind of look designed to remind someone of their place.
Marcus, thank you for looking after my daughter during the storm. I'd like to take her home now. That's Clare's decision, Marcus said. Walter's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Of course, Vanessa was looking at Clare the whole time with that specific quality of attention that said she was calculating something.
Eleanor stepped forward. Clare, we've been so worried. Why didn't you call? I called, Clare said. Three times.
Nobody answered. Eleanor's face did a complicated thing. My phone, the signal was terrible because of the storm. Mother Clare's voice went gentle but firm. I'm not angry.