He Thought Tuesdays Were Pottery, Now He Begs Me Home novel · Chapter 17 of 24
Chapter 17: Lunch with Rosalyn
The donor lounge in the Hetherington Pavilion had a gas fireplace and a view of the lake.
It also had a bronze bust of a man whose hand I had held while he died.
Rosalyn sat at a table for two by the window.
She had a pot of tea and a plate of tiny sandwiches nobody was going to eat.
She had put on weight in her cheeks, and her color was good.
She stood up for me, which she had never done before.
"Josephine."
"Mrs. Hetherington," I said.
"Please sit. I've ordered the chicken salad."
"I'm not hungry."
"You never are," Rosalyn said pleasantly, and poured my tea.
I let her.
We sat looking at each other across the china for a long time.
She spoke first.
"I'll be direct. I find it easier with people who aren't of my class."
"Go ahead," I said.
"You're a clever girl. I misjudged how clever, and I accept that. My nephew was an error, and I'll answer for it privately. But let us not pretend you haven't done well out of this."
The rest of this chapter is part of the paid portion of the series. Chapters 1–12 of He Thought Tuesdays Were Pottery, Now He Begs Me Home are free to read — start from the beginning, then unlock the rest with coins in the app.
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