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with a scruffy beard—was in charge of the soup. I watched him from Mr. Arthur’s chair.

—”It needs salt,” I said.

Liam didn’t even turn around.

—”I know. I’m waiting for you to say it so the tradition doesn’t die.”

—”Rude.”

—”I learned from the best.”

I watched him move around the kitchen with confidence. He chopped vegetables, tasted the broth, gave instructions.continue reading …