35
LINCOLN
The way mother’s eyes light up as she says the words, wet nurses, I just know this will be a disaster.
Octavia beams. “So you were talking about wet nurses!”
I shoot Mother my most serious stare. “The topic did come up, but it’s best to move on.”
With any luck, Mother will get the hint. She doesn’t.
“You know,” Mother taps her chin in an overblown show of thinking. “I couldn’t help but notice the formula in your storage closets.”
“Hold on,” says Myla. “What happened to all the stuff my parents set up?”
“It’s still here,” explains Mother. “Everything is just in the study.”
“Can we actually walk into the study?” I ask.
“Eventually,” says Mother.
“In other words,” I state. “The study’s now stuffed to the ceiling with baby stuff.”
“Technically, yes.” She starts to leave
