But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. ” She looked at him with fluttering eyelids—sweetly grateful. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. No one seeing you together could doubt that she is your granddaughter. “I’ve been,” she said, “forbidden to come.
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