Half an hour later, Dad's car pulled up in front of the house. We sat waiting at the dining table, even though we were already full, pretending we hadn't caused any trouble at all.
"Where's my wife?"
Was that really something a dad should be asking his sons?
Jao Peem and I didn't answer, acting as if we had no idea.
"I asked you guys—where's my wife?" His voice grew sharper, but no one bothered to respond. There were only the three of us here—Dad and his sons. "Jao Peem! Jao Pat!"
Don't let the Minister call us by our full nicknames. That means his temper is already boiling. Like we cared. That was exactly what we wanted. The relationship between the three of us has never been as good as the looks we inherited.
"We're not your wife." Jao Peem stepped in, playing defense.
He closed his eyes, holding it in, then called out to the housekeeper. "Someone outside. Come here."
"Yes, Khun Nin?" P'Pin sounded puzzled. Dinner had already been served. Normally, when Dad came home, no one came out to greet him or show their face. Everyone knew what the atmosphere at our dinner table was like.
"Have you seen my wife?"
"Oh—haven't seen Khun Tim, sir?"
Great. We were in trouble. And fast.
"If I'd seen her, would I be asking? None of you are any help."
"After I finished cooking, she asked to go read in the library. When I went to check again, she wasn't there. I thought maybe—"
"That's enough. You can go." Dad waved her off and dropped into his chair, clearly irritated. He didn't ask anything else, just went straight back to his food, not bothering to check on either of us.
"Jao Peem, was this really Ms. Kawinthida's cooking?" I whispered to my brother.
"Are you deaf?"
Which pretty much meant that if we hadn't heard wrong, food this good—restaurant-level—had to be our teacher's work.
"Can you stop messing with me for a second? I'm serious. Hard to believe someone like her can cook this well."
"No talking while eating." Dad looked at us. We straightened up and focused on dinner again. It really was good. So I went for seconds.