Emily Shepperson stood in the dining room doorway, watching Chris set the table. “I’m not so sure she’s right for him, Chris. She is older, after all.” Chris laughed and carried on laying out the knives and forks for the Sunday roast. “She’s 19, and he’s 17. She’s hardly a cradle snatcher, is she?” Emily didn’t look convinced. She folded her arms. “Look, you know he’s our son, and I worry about him, that’s all.” “Em, mayb...