Chapter 6 - The Feast of Greed
At 10:30 AM, Margaret and Paige returned from town in the new truck, their arms loaded with shopping bags from high-end boutiques and a catering box from an expensive Italian restaurant.
They strutted into the house, laughing loudly, placing bottles of vintage wine and roasted prime rib onto the granite dining table.
"Luke! Sweetheart!" Margaret called out cheerfully, waving a silk scarf. "We brought lunch! We called the real estate agent—she is coming by at two o’clock to show us the lakefront property in the valley!"
Paige poured three glasses of wine, tossing her keys onto the counter. "Luke, the dealership says if you wire the down payment by noon, they will have the new truck detailed and delivered by tonight!"
I sat at the head of the dining table in my uniform, my hands folded calmly over the dark wood.
"Where is Gwen?" I asked softly.
Margaret’s smile stiffened slightly. She waved her hand dismissively, taking a sip of wine.
"Oh, Luke, don't ruin our celebration with that girl! I left a bowl of cold soup in the shed for her. She’s probably sleeping. She’s always sleeping."
Paige rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Honestly, Luke, once your $400,000 clears, you should just file for divorce. You’re a decorated soldier; you deserve a woman who can actually stand beside you at country clubs, not a bald charity case."
I slowly lifted my head, looking into the eyes of the mother who gave birth to me and the sister I had protected since childhood.
"Gwen isn't in the shed, Paige," I said, my voice dropping to a register that made the room turn freezing cold.
May you like
Margaret frowned, setting her glass down. "What do you mean?"
"Gwen is at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington, D.C.," I replied, each word landing like an iron spike. "Under the personal care of the Chief of Oncology."
