Richard Pierce, my father-in-law, stood near the fireplace with a fresh mug in his hand.
He looked comfortable in our living room.
I did not feel comfortable with him there.
For months, Richard had been angry with me without ever raising his voice in front of anyone else.
That was his way.
He preferred comments delivered softly enough that everyone else could pretend they had misunderstood them.
He had called me ungrateful.
He had called me unstable.
He had told Daniel that I was trying to separate him from his family, even though all I had done was tell Richard he could not take Emma on an overnight hunting trip.
I had a reason.
A week earlier, I had learned that Richard had once left Emma sitting alone in his truck outside a bar while he went inside.
He said it had only been a few minutes.
Emma said it had been long enough for the parking lot lights to come on.
