The Reverend Sister

The afternoon had the lazy dignity of a house that owned its own time. In the billiards room, sunlight spilled across the green baize in a long, warm bar. Ares Langford stood with his cue in hand, leaning into a shot as if the angle were a private joke between him and geometry.

Julian was on the opposite side of the table, umbrella of cigar smoke looping up toward the ceiling like an abstract halo. The children had been put to bed an hour earlier, their quiet breaths a ...