She wasn’t apologizing to me for the state she was in.

She was apologizing for the possibility that she’d embarrassed me by being caught resting badly, or cooking wrong, or being seen at all.

From the couch, without getting up, Corinna raised her voice.

“And go easy on the salt back there — you country people cook everything so bland.”

Dashiell didn’t look up from his screen.

“While you’re at it, have her iron my blue shirt.