That was the first honest thing she said.
Margaret looked toward the reception hall.
“My mother worked in a commercial laundry,” she continued.
“When I was growing up, we had one decent winter coat between three children.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“We moved several times.
I was embarrassed to invite friends over.
I spent years learning how to dress and speak so no one would know how frightened I was of being poor again.”
She swallowed.
“When Ethan married into this family, I wanted everything to appear secure and respectable.”
I looked at her.
“And you thought I threatened that.”
“Yes.”
It was a painful admission.