“As far as I know birthdays happen about the same every year, whether you are married or not,” Effie interjected, rolling her eyes at Annie’s teasing or her good humour. How much of it was the cider and how much of it was just Annie being Annie was hard to say, but Effie indulged her enough to only shake her head and sigh at the question of desperate brothers. (That was a non-starter; Brooks spent less time talking about or to his muggle family than she did.)
And she couldn’t shake the sense that everything had happened in the wrong order, an odd mixed up way; the line about desperate brothers ought to have been hers, about one of the McKelveys. Reed McKelvey would be Hanna’s, and she would take Wyatt (because he was her favourite, not for any practical reason), and there would be plenty to go around.
“And you don’t need to...” get me anything, she had been about to chide, only they had veered down the street in a new direction. “Is that supposed to be selling something?” Effie muttered sidelong, glancing suspiciously at the tiny tent-and-table. It wasn’t any part of a street fair or market in view, and all it read was Changes. She grimaced slightly; if it were her choice, she would have thought it better avoided.
And she couldn’t shake the sense that everything had happened in the wrong order, an odd mixed up way; the line about desperate brothers ought to have been hers, about one of the McKelveys. Reed McKelvey would be Hanna’s, and she would take Wyatt (because he was her favourite, not for any practical reason), and there would be plenty to go around.
“And you don’t need to...” get me anything, she had been about to chide, only they had veered down the street in a new direction. “Is that supposed to be selling something?” Effie muttered sidelong, glancing suspiciously at the tiny tent-and-table. It wasn’t any part of a street fair or market in view, and all it read was Changes. She grimaced slightly; if it were her choice, she would have thought it better avoided.
