She held a serving spoon.
“Not today.”
He looked toward her.
“I’m joking.”
“No, you’re not.”
That surprised him.
Mom usually avoided choosing sides.
Her habit was peacekeeping.
Which in our family often meant asking the less aggressive person to tolerate the more aggressive one.
Derek glanced back at me.
Then smiled.
“Fine.”
He stepped away.
For twenty minutes, things settled.
I helped Mom carry drinks.
I spoke with Grandma.
My father handed me a plate.
Todd showed me photographs of a house he was renovating.
I almost believed the conflict was finished.
Then Derek started telling a story.
It involved a traffic stop.
A young man.
A sports car.
Derek had pulled him over for speeding.
According to Derek, the driver had immediately “gotten an attitude.”
The details changed every time someone asked.
By the third version, the driver had been “basically threatening.”
Derek described ordering him out.
The driver questioned why.
Derek removed him anyway.
“He learned,” Derek said.
Uncle Carl nodded approvingly.
Todd asked if the driver had been arrested.
“No. Didn't need to.”
Derek took a drink.
“Sometimes people just need to understand who’s controlling the situation.”
The sentence bothered me.
I had heard it before.
Not from good leaders.
Derek noticed my expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, say it.”
I shook my head.
He leaned forward.
“Rachel.”
I set my fork down.
“You really want my opinion?”
“Absolutely.”
“Authority that needs constant demonstrations usually isn't very secure.”
The table went quiet.
Derek stared.
Uncle Carl looked toward his plate.
Todd’s eyebrows rose.
My mother whispered my name.
I continued calmly.
“Maybe the driver was difficult. I wasn’t there.”
“Exactly.”
“But asking why he’s being removed from his vehicle isn't automatically a threat.”
Derek laughed.
“You don’t understand police work.”
“I didn't say I did.”
“Then don't lecture me.”
“You asked.”
“About my story.”
“You asked what I thought.”
His face flushed.
“I deal with people who lie for a living.”
“So do I.”
That slipped out.
Derek smiled.
“There. That attitude.”
“What attitude?”
“The superiority thing.”
I stood.
Not dramatically.
I had simply finished eating.
“Thanks for lunch, Dad.”
My father nodded.
Derek said:
“Walking away again.”
“Yes.”
“Because you don't like being challenged.”
I turned.
“No. Because I have somewhere to be at three thirty, and arguing with you isn't on the schedule.”
Todd laughed nervously.
Derek’s jaw tightened.
“You think everything is beneath you.”
I ignored him.
That was when he caught my wrist.
The movement was fast.
His fingers closed around my left arm.
I turned immediately.
“Let go.”
He smiled.
“See?”
“See what?”
“That command voice.”
“Derek.”
“Everyone hear that?”
He looked around.
Nobody answered.
I pulled my wrist once.
Not violently.