9781250816214

She hates to contradict anyone. Especially since she is quite a ways
younger than her teatime companions, especially Mrs. Fische. They know
so much more than she does, about so many things. Silver hair, Mrs. F
always says, is the medal won by wisdom. Sophia touches her curls selfconsciously
and wonders if she will get any silver of her own. She doubts it
is possible. Not for such a silly little head and a silly little heart.
“I’m not at all sure what you’re trying to say, dear,” snaps Mrs. Minke
irritably. Her dark eyes appraise Sophia up and down. “Do you think he’s
been … disloyal to you? Is that it?”
“I don’t know!” Sophia says helplessly. She knows she oughtn’t. What
will this do to the widening of Mrs. Moray’s eyes? But she’s so afraid. It
dribbles out of her like blood. “Yesterday I could never imagine it. But
today? And I can’t help but think he’s away so often with work … how am I
to know what goes on when we’re apart?”
“But with who, darling?” Mrs. Fische tuts, looming greedily over the
new pot of tea. “Old Mrs. Elke and Mrs. Hounde down at the farmer’s
market? With those waistlines?” The other ladies laugh indulgently.
“Perhaps Mrs. Hart, with her spots and nervous disposition? Or Mrs.
Marten and her irresistible furry upper lip?” A reluctant smile begins to pull
at Sophia’s rosy lips. In the friendly air of Mrs. Lyon’s sitting room, it really
does seem so foolish.
“One of us?” Mrs. Minke squeals. “You don’t think your beau is
gallivanting around with one of us, do you? Oh, you couldn’t. Just try to
imagine it! Pawing at Mrs. L! Flip-flapping against old Mrs. F? Rolling
around in the grass with me? You can’t. It’s too ridiculous! Who could
compare with you, Sophie? You’re so perfectly lovely and perfectly good
and perfectly sweet as a perfect orange. Everyone knows it. Don’t get your
soft little neck twisted. As far as that man can see, you’re the only woman
in the world.”
“As far as anyone can see. I’ve caught Mr. Lyon stealing a glance or
three, I don’t mind telling you.” Mrs. Lyon rolls her eyes and tosses her
thick, dark golden hair gaily.
“Oh, nonsense!” Sophia cries out, her face burning red.
“It’s true! Oh, pish-posh, it’s no shadow on my grass. He wouldn’t dare.
I’d eat his head! But he gets such a hollow look in his big lazy eyes when he
sees you coming up the walk without your fat slice of man at your side. I