The haunting reflection made her gasp. Gone was her perfectly chiseled face, replaced by sunken cheeks, angular bones, and hollow eyes. Her glowing ivory complexion had turned pasty and sallow. Her eyebrows needed tweezing and dark roots were growing out from the center part of her hair. “California blonde” was returning to mousy brunette. In disgust, she threw the mirror at her side on the bed, closed her eyes and settled back against the pillows. No wonder Doctor Forrester had been avoiding her. A gentle knock rapped on her door. “Come in,” Faith said, opening her eyes. Bridget ambled in with a silver tray laden with a tea set, scones, and teacakes. She set down the tray on the bedside table with a rattle and turned to Faith. “Tea time, ma’am. Some sweets to put some meat on your bones.” “Don’t drill it in, Bridget.” Faith sighed. “I know how dreadful I look.” “Nothing that some food and time can’t heal.” “And some Clairol.” “What ma’am?” Bridget tilted her head, stray strands of carrot red hair escaping from her starched, frilled cap.
