Gradually, Bancroft began to feel the game slipping from his grasp.
He glanced over at Lyman, who sat calmly on the sidelines, barely moving a muscle, unfazed and unreadable.
Could it be…
Bancroft didn’t dare underestimate his opponents any longer. He sat up straighter, sharpening his focus.
In the end, it was Effie who broke the silence with a soft, “Checkmate.”
Bancroft blinked and stared at the board in disbelief—he was out of pieces.
He’d lost. To Effie.
The room, which had been filled with casual conversation, suddenly quieted as Bancroft’s surprised exclamation drew everyone’s attention. Heads turned, curiosity piqued.
“Did Grandpa let Effie win on purpose?” Marcia whispered, her voice barely audible.
The others looked just as bewildered. None of them had paid much attention to the match, so no one really knew what had happened.
No one answered Marcia, but every gaze drifted to the chessboard. It was obvious—Bancroft had only a handful of desperate pawns left, no hope of turning the tide.
Leaning in, Marcia whispered to Fowler, “Grandpa’s always been the best player in the family, hasn’t he?”
Fowler nodded. Aside from Lyman, no one else in the house could ever beat him.
Once the initial shock faded, everyone started to suspect Lyman had helped Effie win.
Effie, still a bit embarrassed, said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to win.”
Bancroft slowly gathered himself, trying to appear unfazed. “No need to apologize. That’s the way chess goes—sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Perfectly normal.”
He paused, then added, “Let’s have another round.”
Effie hesitated. “Maybe someone else should play? You must be bored playing with me, Grandpa.”
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