126 Lucy drank them as the first rays of watery sunlight seeped through the mullioned windows, then put their husks in the claw-footed bathtub. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled.
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