Her beloved Royal Doultons. Gone and crashed to the floor. How long had she been collecting those blue-green, white, yellow-red figurines of Victorian women in petticoats and parisoles? Did that go back to her mother, the Anna Tasker she’d never known? Had she collected them and Father gave them to her when she married Cornelius? Yes, that’s right – Father had packed them himself in her trunk when she left the house on Park Avenue and come to Philadelphia.
Agnes gasped. “I’m sorry, Georgianna, I’m so sorry!”
A mask came over Georgianna’s face. Everyone was having a hard time adjusting to her new daughter-in-law. Cornelius wet himself one morning, unable to get to the bathroom in time because Agnes was bathing so long. Norman had a hard time, waiting for three or four hours every morning until she finally woke up at nine in the morning. And now Georgianna had her turn: her precious Royal Doultons, gone and crashed to the floor.
“It’s quite all right, my dear. Don’t give it a second’s thought.”
A second’s thought. As if those figurines should occupy more than a second of time in anyone’s head. True, they had each other. She still had her husband and her two sons. Three grandsons from Neil already, and a grandchild on the way from Norman and Agnes. But what of their home? They no longer had that, just this cramped apartment for four adults (and a baby on the way) on top of their general store, their beautiful home across the street, empty – and wearing a “bank foreclosure sale” sign on the front.
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