“The day was clear, bright, and windless, a good walking day. By the time they returned, Lou and Dierdre had the table set and the chowder heated. The chowder Lou and Clothilde made wasn’t as good as Mother’s, thinner, somehow, the clams not as swollen up with sweetness; Lou didn’t make the little crisp chunks of salt pork to scatter over the top. Lou’s biscuits were not as light as Mother’s and their taste was somehow flat. At the table, Mother sat quiet, letting Clothilde and Nate heap as much... jam as they wanted onto their biscuits. Dierdre was talking away, telling them about the church service her doll went to, but nobody paid any attention. Clothilde counted: it was seven days since the man in the boathouse had walked up to their door; it was twenty-three days since the carriage had brought Nate home; how many days was it since Mother had prepared a meal, worked in the vegetable garden, scolded her? “Dolly Molly wasn’t listening nicely,” Dierdre reported. “I had to shush—”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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