I left it loose and straight instead of shoving it into my habitual ponytail, and even scrounged up some eyeliner from the black hole of my messenger bag. When I finished, I could see hints of my mother in my reflection. For a moment I just stared, slightly uneasy, before attempting on a whim the look she had been particularly famous for. It was a cross between a smile and sneer, an expression of unrelenting disdain for the mere mortals that wanted her attention. It looked so ridiculous on me that I laughed, and headed down to breakfast. Downstairs, the O’Connor women waited in unrelenting black. Different blacks; Kate looked elegant in a sheath and pearls, Lauren looked like the dress could double for cocktail hour, while Anna’s looked kind of poufy and alternative. She didn’t have her dark eyeliner on for once, but she hadn’t given up the combat boots either. We’d already started in on our eggs and hashbrowns when footsteps sounded in the hall.
