al church hall, a bright, airy space filled w

clothes, stuffed animals,

congratulations, his arm pro

d support. But a knot of anxiety tighten

ng near the refreshment table, looking out of place in his

ire a pile of knitted booties. He leaned down, whispered some

, and she gave him a quick, consp

od ran

face a mask of angelic sweetne

a. My mom, Brenda, used to drink it all the time when she

cal blow: "This will make sure those litt

from her grasp, hot tea splashing across

"I' m so sorry, Chloe! It... it just smelled s

erson, a retired nurse and a pillar o

e spilled mug, sniffing the dregs of the tea. "Hmm, smells a bit like chamomil

d be slow-acting, subtle, designed to cause problem

ears. "I just wanted to do so

hurt and confusion, aimed directly at Mark. "Sh

ace a mixture of concern for

e low. "You' re making a scene. Mrs. Henderson

flowing freely. "Honey, don' t cry. Mom

mine, were filled with a n

ranoid," he mouth

carefully crafted victimhood, to Uncle Ray who was

sickening lurch wh

rm the babies. They were trying

was w