Uncle Peter’s sigh was so loud it reached even her ears and was followed by the clink of glass. He must be pouring a drink, she thought. Probably the “water of life” he and Mama shared when they thought they were alone, not the “merry sherry” the Great Aunties said a proper lady would prefer.
Sophia frowned. Her mother sounded … odd, different, not like herself. She had heard mother sound happy, angry, annoyed, bored and even, once, what Mary Mae called tipsy, but she had never heard her sound like this.
Her frown deepened. Was Mama worried, or maybe even scared?
“What else are we to think?” Uncle asked in reply, sounding tireder, she thought.