She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. ’ ‘As if you could stop her. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. My Mom is hell bent on having the biggest, most beautiful house in the neighborhood, my college education be damned. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue.
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