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here.”
    “Huh. Good old Simon. He always was a few steps ahead of the rest of us.” Chris sat down on the bed to put on his socks.
    “Supper’s about on. We can go down as soon as you’re ready,” Jon said.
    Chris nodded, reached for his shoes, pulled one on, and began to lace it slowly. Jon watched him, saw how stiffly he held himself, saw him fumble with the laces.
    “What’s wrong?” Jon asked.
    Chris shook his head. “Nothing,” he grunted. But he sat for a moment after he’d finished the first shoe, then reached for the second.
    “Smells good, doesn’t it? I’m starved,” Jon tried.
    “It does,” Chris agreed, then glanced up at Jon. “I’m not very hungry, I guess,” he said, his face blank.
    It struck Jon then, and he could have kicked himself. “You look tired.”
    “I haven’t slept well the past few days. Wondering, y’know? I’m guess I’m—I don’t know—just overwhelmed.” He dropped his head down, rubbed at his eyes.
    “You don’t want to go down, do you?”
    Chris shifted on the bed. “I don’t want to be rude.”
    “It’s all right; they’ll understand. I’ll tell them. You can just rest.” Chris looked up at him, his eyes pleading. “It’s all right,” Jon repeated.
    “Thanks,” Chris whispered.
    “Sure,” Jon said. “Get some rest.”

CHAPTER 4
     
    A t supper, mindful of the small ears at one end of the table, they spoke of what a good, happy thing had happened. Jon grilled Brian about everything Chris had told him on the bus ride. Brian made it clear that Chris hadn’t said much, but related the main points. It seemed that Brian was being careful to say only neutral things about Chris, and Jon thought Fiona might get a different version of the story later that night. Jon wondered how much of Chris’s reluctance to come down to supper was because of Brian. He couldn’t believe that the two of them would let something that had happened so long ago cause problems now. He wanted to say something, get it out in the open, but he couldn’t do that with Ian and Preston at the table.
    When they finished eating, Brian took the boys off to read in the sitting room, and the adults rehashed and speculated in low voices until Jon felt ill. He kept quiet until finally they noticed his glowering face and ended their discussion. He helped clear the table and put together a plate of food for Chris. Laura laid a hand on Jon’s arm as he was about to leave the kitchen.
    “Tell Chris we’d love to see him,” she said, “but if he just wants to sleep ’til tomorrow, we understand.”
    Jon nodded and went upstairs. He knocked softly and opened the door. Chris jerked awake and sat up with a gasp.
    “Sorry,” Jon said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    “Wow. I was dreaming.” Chris swung his feet over the side of the bed.
    Jon used his elbow to flick on the light switch. “I’ve brought you some supper. I thought you might be hungry now.”
    “Brilliant,” Chris said, squinting a little at the light. He balanced the plate on his knees. “I guess I am, a bit.” He took a few bites.
    “Everyone said to tell you they understand if you just want to sleep until tomorrow. But of course they’d love to see you, if you’re up to it.”
    Chris nodded noncommittally as he chewed. “So, how many are there?”
    Jon leaned against the doorframe and counted them out on his fingers. “Brian, Fiona and the boys, Simon, me, and Laura. And then Alan and his wife, Vivian, are in the gatehouse. Nine. You make ten. Oh, and David is here quite a bit. He’s Laura’s fellow—” He broke off at the sudden thought that maybe Chris would try to rekindle things with Laura.
    Chris glanced up at him. “Laura has a fellow? Good for her.”
    “I thought maybe you—”
    “No,” Chris said with a firm shake of his head.
    “Right, sorry,” Jon said, and felt his face getting warm. “I just...”
    “What about you? Do you have a girl?”
    Jon had been afraid he would ask.