The Debacle
After dinner, we all sat in the parlor: Molly, Katie, Tony. Molly said, “I hope you’re well.”
She was merely being polite. I said, “I’m well, thank you.”
But I didn’t feel well. Not exactly ill, but my belly hurt, low and aching, and I felt more tired than I thought right.
But we had ridden many miles that day. Perhaps I wasn’t fully recovered from all that had happened to me in the past two months.
Katie had found a set of men’s house clothes from somewhere, and looked very pleased with herself when she saw I’d noticed. But then she looked a bit shy. “Thank you for the flowers.”
I smiled fondly at her. “You’re very welcome.”
After her attempt at politeness, Molly sat sipping tea. She’d asked for port, but I then learned that Tony had removed all the alcohol from the hou
