“—William Shakespeare The doorbell chimed and M.J.’s head came up as she stared at Samuel. “He’s here.” Her voice was a whisper. Everett Kirkland had arrived. Samuel, resting a hand on the small of her back, leaned over and kissed the side of her neck. “Everything looks beautiful. You are beautiful. And try to relax, baby,” he crooned, walking out of the kitchen to answer the door. She wasn’t concerned with how the house looked. Instead of asking Peggy for a recommendation for a cleaning woman, ...she’d confronted Bessie about her frequent absences, who admitted she’d begun taking Lydia Pinkham, a special tonic for female ailments, and that she was feeling much better. Bessie had cleaned the house thoroughly and a hundred hours of instruction at the convent school should have prepared M.J. for this moment, but the sound of the doorbell had momentarily shattered her confidence. Playing hostess for her father had not counted because she was merely a substitute for Carlotta, dress rehearsals for when she would become mistress of her own household.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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