Maurice brought out a large book, flipped it open, one finger poised over a black sheet. "Shall we schedule dinners on Sundays from now on, Council Leader? For efficiency's sake."

Mom almost flinched, but nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Six pm, shall we?" He wrote quickly, magic flowing from his finger to the page as he decided my once-a-week culinary fate for the rest of the year in his stupid appointment book. "Now then," Maurice snapped the book shut, turning to face Mom ...