‘What could either of us have done?’ To Gerald’s acute consternation, Melusine’s lip trembled suddenly, and her eyes filled. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. Suddenly she had become afraid. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. “That’s what we narcs have to do.
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