I was trying to find a place to set down a plate full of pizza in our family room when Clara suddenly appeared behind me. She clumsily bumped into my arm while I attempted to balance the plate in my hand and teetered back and forth on one foot while trying not to trip over the edge of a rug. “You know,” she said casually, indifferent to my struggles, “The house would be a whole lot cleaner if Lydia and Gideon didn’t exist.” I set my plate down on a stack of magazines and pulled up a chair, “Clara…” I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath, “Clara what are you talking about?” She moved some coats and sat down…