I looked at the mug and then back at my mother.

“Thank you, Mother,” I said, crossing over to sit in the wooden chair directly across from her.

Martha reached across the table and laid her warm, dry hand gently over my knuckles.

“You look so worn out, Eleanor,” Martha said, her voice falling to a sympathetic whisper.

“Carrying this baby all alone and running this big house is taking too much out of you.”

I didn’t pull my hand away, but I slowly turned the gold wedding ring on my finger beneath her palm.