Unreliable, as always. Andrews thoughts were a steady stream of complaints about his father as he hurried from a brisk walk to a jog.

Arriving at the third-floor gallery, Andrew hesitated, unsure of which room his mother might be in. Just as he was about to call her, he spied his father, Gabriel, at the far end of the corridor, knocking on a door.

Gabriel, having wrapped up his socializing, had asked Mrs. Archer where Hazel was and learned she was in room 310. ...