“Evangaline, what are you doing?”
Evangaline’s Aunt Ramona had a habit of inviting herself in that Eva had not yet broken her of. She blamed her late Aunt Asta, who had found it easier to allow the family to appear to walk all over her than to contradict the pile of aunts and great-aunts, grandmothers, mothers, and sisters (In their family, the men knew better, at least, than to contradict the capital-A Aunt). Aunt Asta had not been gone long enough, and Eva had not established herself well enough, that the family had managed to differentiate between Asta’s bad habits and Eva’s.
On the other hand, she had no interest in listening to that tone for the rest of her life – or at the very least, for the rest of Aunt Ramona’s life.
“I am making a greenhouse on the sunny side of the stable barn,” she answered calmly. Calmly was best. It irritated the older relatives.
“You are – yes, I can see that. The question, Evangaline Jane, is why you are making a greenhouse. Workers! On our property!” Continue reading