They didn’t know she understood it all. They thought because she couldn’t talk, she didn’t understand anything.
Siobhan clucked around like a bird. She fetched glasses of water that made her cough. She rubbed her feet and her temples. She fussed about the sheets, never smooth enough. She fluffed up her pillows. She had six daughters-in-law, why’d she ever go to live with her least favorite one? At least, though, Siobhan was here. All the others were in their own houses on the Main Line, dispatching orders to servants they never treated right. If they still had servants, money having dried up for all of them.
Annie Kate wanted Agnes. Where were she and Norman, somewhere in New York State? Norman’s mother had called Siobhan to tell her, a baby girl had been delivered while the two of them were en route back to Philadelphia. Some farm house in upstate New York. They were stuck there until Agnes recovered. It had been a difficult birth, Mrs. Balmoral had said. Also, Norman needed to get the car fixed. The engine had flooded in an overnight rainstorm.
Siobhan told her, she’d sent Agnes a telegram about Annie Kate’s stroke. She’ll be here soon, she assured her, she’ll be here soon. Annie Kate certainly hoped so – her time was running out.
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