Chapter 24 — Two Cars at St. Jude’s

The next morning Jonathan told me, over fried eggs and cold toast, that he had changed the florist’s lilies to white roses because lilies looked like a funeral, and I said the roses were much better, that he had finer taste than I did.

He looked at me over his reading glasses, his thumb rotating the signet ring.

“You are being remarkably sensible today, Clara.” I want the day to go smoothly, I said.

I know how much the family reputation matters to your mother.