Mom Called Me Damaged at My Sister’s Baby Shower

“Dr. Cross?”

“The neurosurgeon?”

Mrs. Higgins nearly dropped her champagne.

Alexander turned toward my mother.

“You must be Eleanor,” he said.

His voice was polite.

His eyes were not.

“Elara has told me very little about you. I understand why.”

My mother’s teacup slipped from her fingers.

It struck the saucer, tipped, and spilled tea down the front of her continue reading …