“Yes, and young Barnes.”
She stopped there and poured the tea. She did it gracefully, but Frederick’s thoughts swept back to Jane behind her battlements of silver.
“Four lumps, Ricky?”
“Um—yes.”
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“They’re not worth a penny, Adelaide. Lots of lemon, please. And no cakes. I am trying to keep my lovely figure.”
“Oh, why worry? I like big men.”
“That’s nice of you.”
Martha’s little sponge cakes were light as a feather. Adelaide broke one and ate daintily. Then she said, “How’s little Jane Barnes?”
Frederick was immediately self-conscious. “She’s still in Chicago.”