"I'll say this once more. Get back here. Take Penelope and go upstairs."
"This is your last chance!"
Wilfred didn't stop. Didn't turn around. Holding Penelope's hand, he walked toward the door, dozens of stares following him.
"Tomorrow. Two o'clock. Family Court."
Outside, a light rain had begun to fall.
Wilfred had brought an umbrella. He opened it, lifted Penelope into his arms, and carried her to the parking lot.
He settled her into the car seat in the back, then paused. She'd been so quiet, so well-behaved through all of it. His heart ached. He kissed her forehead.
"Penelope, Daddy's taking you away from Mommy and your sister. Do you blame me?"
"No." Her voice was small but unwavering. "Mommy wants to be with Uncle Patrick. She doesn't want us anymore. If she doesn't want us, we don't want her either."
"Alright. Daddy will take care of you from now on."
Something tightened in his chest.
He started the car and drove toward the Dickerson residence.
At the Pruitt house, the guests shifted uncomfortably.
"Hildegarde, don't be upset. Wilfred's clearly misunderstood something. Let me go explain—"
Patrick set Hilary down and made to stand, but Hildegarde caught his arm.
"Don't bother, Patrick."