Agatha's face glowed with smugness. "Of course it will. I'm not like my sister, that useless waste who couldn't even keep a baby alive."
I didn't want to see them. I turned to leave, but walked right into them.
"Oh, sis! What are you doing here?" Agatha's voice dripped with mock concern. "Another allergic reaction? Or did you lose another baby?"
Her eyes landed on the worn knitted cap in my hands, and she snatched it away.
"God, how tacky."
"That's my aunt's hat. Give it back." My glare could have cut glass. I ripped it out of her grip.
Aunt Harriet had never had any use for either of them. She only tolerated them for my sake. After her accident left her in a wheelchair, neither of them had visited her once.
Agatha and Frederick exchanged a glance, taking a long moment before they even realized who I was talking about.
"Oh, that crippled old woman?" A cruel smile played across Agatha's lips. "She's still alive?"
"Your aunt was never exactly pleasant, Libby." Frederick reached for my arm. "You should stop wasting your time on that dead weight and come home."
I wrenched free of his hand, spun around, and slapped Agatha across the face. Hard. Again. And again.