Chapter 5 — Rowena’s Broth

By nine the next morning the private room smelled of lilies and antiseptic, and Roderick’s mother came gliding through the door with a silver thermos and a bright, cheerful dress.

“Oh, Adriana, my dear, you look worn to the bone,” Rowena cooed, setting the thermos down and sparing the bassinet a single glance.

“She’s a sweet little thing.

Girls are so affectionate when we’re older, aren’t they.”

“Thank you for coming, Rowena,” I said, sitting up with a face I kept perfectly smooth.