Ours is Just a Little Sorrow
“Though, perhaps, he'd been staying out of mine.
I lifted my chin out of habit. Well, that was just fine if he was. Just fine.
Phillip was reading, a torturous exercise I put him through day after day, and I was helping one of the maids, Marisol, hang a garland of evergreen boughs when Oliver entered the salon.
"Miss Merriweather, you've a guest," he said as gloomily as ever.
How odd. I turned to look over my shoulder, but couldn't let go of the garland. In the doorway, stood Mrs. Witherspoon, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. As usual, it was impossible to read any emotion in her face.
I am sure I looked a fright. We'd been decorating with the evergreen all morning-I'd be finding needles on my person for the next several days. The pins had been knocked loose from my hair leaving it half up and half down, and sap had collected on my hands and face over the hours.
Write Review:
User Reviews: