Chapter 4 Shared Space

The rest of the afternoon passed in short, careful movements. Glory stayed downstairs and made the necessary calls about the funeral. The service would be small and private, three days from now. She wrote the details on a pad of paper and left it on the kitchen counter where Jason would see it if he came down.

Jason stayed upstairs for more than an hour. She heard the guest room door open and close once. Then nothing. The house settled into the kind of quiet that made every small sound stand out, the hum of the refrigerator, the soft creak of the floor when Mrs. Ellis moved through the hallway, the distant drip of water from a gutter outside.

Mrs. Ellis left just before five. “Everything is set for the morning,” she said at the door. “I’ll come early if you need me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Glory answered. “We’ll manage.”

After the housekeeper’s car pulled away, the silence felt thicker. Glory walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was leftover chicken from the night before, some bread, and a container of soup. She set the soup on the stove to heat and cut two slices of bread. She did not bother to call Jason. If Jason was hungry, he would come down on his own.

He appeared just as the soup began to steam. He had changed into a plain dark sweater. His hair looked slightly damp, as if he had washed his face. He stopped in the doorway and looked at the two bowls she had already set on the counter.

“I wasn’t sure if you ate already,” Glory said. “There’s enough for both of us.”

Jason walked in and pulled out a stool. “I can eat.”

They sat on opposite sides of the kitchen island. The soup was simple and hot. Glory ate slowly, keeping her eyes on her bowl. Jason did the same. The only sounds were the occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic and the soft rain that had started again outside.

After a few minutes Jason spoke. “You already planned the funeral.”

“Yes. It'll be a small, private service. Three days from now. The details are on the counter if you want to read them.”

He glanced at the pad of paper but did not pick it up. “You didn’t wait to ask what I thought.”

“You weren’t here to ask,” Glory said. “And I know how these things work. Your father never wanted a large public event. So I kept it simple.”

Jason set his spoon down. “You keep talking like you still have the right to make decisions for this house.”

Glory finally looked up. “Until the funeral is over and the practical matters are finished, someone has to make decisions. You can take over every detail after that if you want. Right now I’m doing what needs doing.”

“You always did that,” Jason said. “Stepped in. Took control. Acted like you belonged here from the first day.”

Glory kept her voice even. “I lived here for years. I shared a bed with your father. I managed the staff and the bills and the day-to-day running of this place. That is not the same as pretending I was born into it. But I’m also not going to apologize for doing the job that needed doing.”

Jason leaned back slightly on the stool. “You still refuse to give an inch.”

“Giving an inch never got me anywhere with you,” Glory answered. “You made up your mind about me a long time ago. Nothing I say now is going to change that.”

They finished the soup in silence. Glory stood first, collected the bowls, and carried them to the sink. She turned on the water and began rinsing. Jason stayed seated for a moment, then stood and brought the empty bread plate over.

“I’ll help,” he said.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

They stood side by side at the sink. Glory washed while Jason dried. Their hands did not touch, but the space between them felt smaller than the actual distance. The warm water and the soft sound of the sponge against the bowls filled the quiet.

When the last dish was put away, Jason dried his hands on the towel and set it aside. “I’m going to look through some of the papers in the study later. The personal ones. Not the legal files.”

Glory nodded. “They’re still in the bottom drawer on the left. Your father kept them organized. I didn’t move anything.”

“Did you read them?”

“No. They weren’t mine to read.”

Jason studied her face for a second, as if he was deciding whether to believe her. Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen. She heard his footsteps move down the hallway toward the study. A moment later the study door closed with a soft click.

Glory stayed in the kitchen. She wiped the counter even though it was already clean. The house felt different with him in it again, not louder, just tighter, as if every room was holding its breath. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it slowly, listening for any sound from the study but there was none.

After a while she turned off the kitchen lights and walked upstairs. The hallway on the second floor was dim. Light showed under the door of the guest room. Jason had left the study and gone back to his room without saying anything else.

Glory paused outside her own bedroom door. For a moment she considered knocking on his door and asking if he needed anything. She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. He would not want the question, and she was not in the mood to offer comfort he would only reject.

She went into her room and closed the door. The bed still felt too large. She changed into a simple nightshirt and sat on the edge of the mattress, listening to the rain against the windows. Somewhere across the hall Jason was awake in the same house that had once driven him away.

Glory lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

She closed her eyes, but sleep stayed far away. The quiet of the house pressed in around her, and the knowledge that Jason was only a few doors down made every small sound feel louder than it should.