Page 99 of Eleanor’s Earrings

Martha told a story about the first pie she ever baked.

“It was terrible,” Rebecca said.

“You ate two pieces.”

“I was thirteen.”

“That does not explain it.”

“I was hungry.”

“What was wrong with the pie?” Grace asked.

“I forgot the sugar.”

Lydia stared at Martha. “You?”

“Yes.”

“Our Martha?”

“Yes.”

“The woman who measures everything?”

“I learned why.”

Eleanor smiled. “Father ate an entire slice.”

Martha’s expression softened. “He said it was excellent.”

Rebecca said, “Then he drank three cups of coffee.”

Martha laughed.

Grace told about trying to rescue a bird that had flown into the house and accidentally releasing Mother’s cat into the room.

Lucy interrupted repeatedly because she remembered the story differently.

“You were four.”

“I still remember.”

“You remember hiding beneath the table.”

“The cat was excited.”

“The bird was more excited.”

Lucy finally told a story about cutting her own hair when she was six because Lydia told her short hair made people run faster.

Lydia defended herself. “I believed it.”

“You were twelve!”

“I had not conducted experiments.”

Eleanor looked around the circle of her sisters.