Lucy removed the shawl from over her shoulder and ran it under her chin.
“Why do you do that?” Eden asked. “Rub it under your chin?”
She smiled. “Cashmere is warm, lightweight, and intensely soft. If you run it under your chin, you won’t feel the least scratchiness.” She leaned in and whispered, as though sharing a secret, “I confess, I’ve always loved the feel of it.”
She handed the item to the twins.
As they ran their hands over it, Vida reached over to touch it, as well.
“It’s so luxurious,” Eden said. “Still, this Skelly must have said something about it, Lucy. Was that what her—prediction—was all about?”
A sudden gust of wind blew rain into a window that had been left open a crack. Lucy went to close it.
“Well,” she said as she returned, “Skelly spoke mostly in riddles. Even so, I know her to have been right about one thing, at least. She told Rowena that she’d have a seventh daughter one day, and then, about the cape, she said—” Lucy stopped cold. “No, that’s not right.” Her brow dropped. “As I mentioned, she spoke in riddles. I remember laughing about it at the time, teasing Rowena that we’d seen and heard it all, so I’m sure I can recall her words accurately. Now, let me think here . . .”
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