Her eyes were red and swollen. Obviously, she’d spent the day crying. Willie-Mae came into the room. “I’ve tried everything,” she said. “Do you think it will ever clear up?” I asked, then realized I had ulterior motives. I wanted Mona to come back to work so I didn’t have to deal with Abigail. “Eventually,” Willie-Mae said. Mona sniffed. “I’ll probably be scarred for life.” Willie-Mae looked frustrated. “You’re making it worse,” she told her daughter, “by overreacting. All it does is cause you more stress, and you know that’s not good for you.” I tried to think of a way to change the subject. “How is Tiara?” I asked. “She’s taking a nap,” Willie-Mae said. “The baby kicks all night. Poor girl is exhausted. I’m glad you’re having dinner with us. I cooked a big pot of vegetable soup and my famous corn bread.” “Sounds delicious,” I said. I heard a noise on the stairs and saw Tiara slowly and carefully picking her way down. “I’m starving,”
