31
Greta stared at her mother wielding the spoon in her hand. To think this was the same woman she once found buried under blankets, hiding from Scorpion. Here, she was a queen. Although she may not have been the oldest of the old ladies, she was by far the mightiest. After all, she had to make up for years of silence.
She lost her smile when her mother swiped a thumb across the circles under Greta’s eyes and observed, “You’re tired.”
She tore herself away gently, and explained, “We’ve had an uptick in clients, and we’ve begun working on DV cases. A client vanished on us. It’s been rough.”
“You mean the domestic violence cases. You don’t need to sanitize it with an abbreviation. It is what it is.”
Lines of tension slid off her mother’s forehead. At the sideboard, she lifted tops cover
