Threading the Needle (2011)
“Who did she think she was?
Angry as I was, I almost laughed at that.
She was Abigail Burgess Wynne, of course! And judging by the incredible gall she displayed in showing up uninvited on my doorstep, she had changed not at all. There she was, trying to run me out of town—again.
When I answered the door, I’d stood there for a moment, absolutely dumbstruck. Though her appearance had changed so little in the years since I’d last seen her, it took a moment to convince myself that the woman standing there really was Abigail.
She smiled and asked if she could come inside. In my shock, I let her—but only as far as the foyer.
“I heard you were back in town, so I just thought I’d stop by and say hello.”
“Why?”
She frowned. “You needn’t take such a hostile tone, Madelyn. I know that our history together hasn’t been exactly . . . shall we say, cordial? But that was a long time ago. Things are different now. Water under the bridge and all that.”
She looked down, fiddling with her gloves as she sp...oke, tugging at each leather finger and then pulling at the wrist and stretching them tight over her hands, smiling one of those obligatory smiles people paste on to help them get past awkward moments.MoreLess
Angry as I was, I almost laughed at that.
She was Abigail Burgess Wynne, of course! And judging by the incredible gall she displayed in showing up uninvited on my doorstep, she had changed not at all. There she was, trying to run me out of town—again.
When I answered the door, I’d stood there for a moment, absolutely dumbstruck. Though her appearance had changed so little in the years since I’d last seen her, it took a moment to convince myself that the woman standing there really was Abigail.
She smiled and asked if she could come inside. In my shock, I let her—but only as far as the foyer.
“I heard you were back in town, so I just thought I’d stop by and say hello.”
“Why?”
She frowned. “You needn’t take such a hostile tone, Madelyn. I know that our history together hasn’t been exactly . . . shall we say, cordial? But that was a long time ago. Things are different now. Water under the bridge and all that.”
She looked down, fiddling with her gloves as she sp...oke, tugging at each leather finger and then pulling at the wrist and stretching them tight over her hands, smiling one of those obligatory smiles people paste on to help them get past awkward moments.MoreLess
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