She hadn’t anticipated Maud Blyth. She didn’t know how anyone ever could. Violet turned the maple ring on her thumb, drew her spoon through a streak of custard, and exhaled. “My sister Alice was wild for blackberries,” she said. “She would come home with an apron full of them as soon as the hedges were full.” “You don’t talk about your sisters,” Maud said after a cautious pause.
