Chapitre 24: Chapter 24

"Was my mother like that?"

"No, not at all. She wasn't very interested in that sort of thing. She spent a lot of her time alone, thinking and writing."

"She liked to write?" 'Why hadn't anyone mentioned that before? It gave her a warm feeling to know she shared a love for words with her mother.'

"Oh goodness, yes. Poems and stories. She was very thoughtful. Our mother always used to say she was an old soul."

"So why did she go to that party?"

"Oh, you know. They were her friends from as far back as kindergarten, and she was prone to restlessness. Especially after our parents died. You get it from her."

Zoey smiled at the idea.

"Anyway, I understand it was quite a party," Aunt Flory said. "Young people sowing their wild oats."

"Were you there?" Zoey asked.

Verna coughed, smoke sputtering out of her nose like exhaust pipes on an old car. Aunt Flory ignored her. "No, it wasn't my crowd."

"Did your friends party?" Zoey asked, pretty sure she knew that answer.