Chapter 9 - FIVE DAYS IN THE MAILBOX
Evelyn looked down at the brown expanding folder. Then she looked up at her husband, her eyebrows knitting together in irritation.
"What is this, Arthur?" she asked, her voice sharp. "We have guests."
Arthur pulled out the high-backed dining chair directly across from her and sat down. He crossed his hands on the table.
"It came on the twentieth," Arthur said softly.
Evelyn frowned. "What came on the twentieth?"
"That folder. The certified delivery from the state department."
Evelyn’s face hardened slightly, a flash of anxiety darting across her eyes before she quickly masked it with annoyance. "If it's business mail, you should have put it on my desk in the office. Why are you dragging it out during Christmas dinner?"
"I've had it for five days," Arthur continued, his voice completely level, devoid of any anger or emotion. "I kept it in the toolbox in my workbench."
Evelyn’s voice rose an octave. "Then why on earth didn't you give it to me five days ago?!"
Arthur looked at her for a long, heavy moment. The silence in the room was so thick you could hear the soft tick of the grandfather clock in the foyer.
"Because," Arthur said quietly, "I wanted to see what you'd do first."
Brenda leaned forward over her plate, her brow furrowed. "Dad, what are you talking about? What's in the folder?"
Arthur didn't answer his daughter. He kept his eyes locked entirely on his wife.
Evelyn gave a short, nervous laugh, looking around the table at the neighbors. "Arthur is being completely ridiculous. He's had a glass of scotch and he's making a mountain out of a molehill."
"Open it," Arthur said.
Two words. Delivered like an iron curtain dropping.
Evelyn glared at him, waiting for someone—Daniel, Brenda, anyone—to step in and tell Arthur he was out of line.
Nobody spoke. The neighbors were staring at their napkins. Daniel was staring at his father in complete bewilderment.
"Fine," Evelyn snapped, snatching the brown folder off the table. "If you want to ruin Christmas over administrative paperwork, let's look at it."
She snapped the black elastic band off the folder.
Her manicured fingers hesitated at the thick paper flap. She reached inside and pulled out the top stack of documents.
At first, her face carried a mask of pure irritation.
She scanned the bold header on the first page.
Then, her eyes stopped moving.
She read the first line.
She froze.
May you like
Her lips parted slightly. She read it again, her eyes moving rapidly back and forth across the page.
All the color, all the flush of victory and authority she had carried all evening, drained out of her face in a matter of seconds, leaving her skin a pale, papery gray.
