When Sylvia came back to the table, her eyes were rimmed red-you''d have to be blind not to realize she''d been crying.

Reese immediately set down her fork and handed Sylvia a napkin. "Hey, Sylvia, are you alright?"

Sylvia clutched the napkin, trying to keep it together. "I''m fine. Just got some soap in my eyes, that''s all."

At that, Kay shot Sylvia a quick nce, her eyes lingering on the swollen redness, then gave an awkward littleugh. She took a sip of her chowder and, over the rim of her spoon, exchanged a silent look with Mrs. Hanson.

Mrs. Hanson, wrapped in her thick fur stole, set down her knife and fork. There was a look in her eyes-kind of generous, but in that condescending way. "Sylvia, we''ve already talked to Mr. Rupert and the others. The wedding''s set for next week. We''ll keep it simple."

Sylvia looked up, shooting Rupert a cold nce. "Don''t need my opinion, I guess."

"Good girl. That''s the way. A woman should follow her husband''s lead-that''s how it''s always been. These days, women are too pampered for their own good. Someone needs to set them straight."

Mrs. Hanson smiled sweetly at Sylvia, but it felt sharp, like there were thorns behind it. "Once you''re married, I''ll make sure you learn how things are done around here. You''re young-having five, six, seven kids won''t be any trouble at all."

Sylvia didn''t reply. She didn''t argue either. She just nced down at Mrs. Hanson''s waist, almost absentmindedly.

Suddenly, Mrs. Hanson''s superior smile faltered, and she tugged her fur tighter around her midsection. "I... I was just busy with work when I was younger. Didn''t have time for kids, that''s all."

"Sure," Sylvia replied quietly, barely bothering to hide her amusement.

No wonder the Hanson family only ever had one kid per generation, she thought. Mrs. Hanson never seemed to realize that while she treated other women like livestock, she was a woman herself. Of course, she only had the guts to say those things because someone always backed her up.

The more humble Sylvia acted, the more pleased Rupert and Kay looked.

"Sylvia, after the wedding, you''ll quit your job and focus on being a mom. First one should be a boy, of course. After that, it doesn''t matter much if it''s a boy or a girl. By the third-"

Before Mrs. Hanson could finish, Rupert set his wine ss down with a gentle but decisive clink. His fingers, decorated with a ruby ring, traced the rim, leaving a hint of red behind.

Mrs. Hanson swallowed the rest of her words, her face paling.

Sylvia blinked, confused by Rupert''s sudden displeasure. What''s his deal?

Before she could dwell on it, Kay cleared her throat and offered an exnation. Mrs. Hanson, you know Reese is stiltrecovering and all this talk about babies just puts extra pressure on her."  s

Sylvia nced at Reese, whose face had gone a little pale, clearly rattled by the conversation. No wonder Rupert had been so quick to shut his mother up.  s

Mrs. Hanson hurried to rify, "Ms. Sanford isn''t the same, that''s all—"

Reese frowned. "Sylvia''s a woman, you''re a woman, Mrs. Hanson. I don''t see the difference."

"She''s right, Mom," Kay agreed. "Let''s drop it and eat. Ms. Sanford, you have to try this-it''s the house specialty."

Yves, who''d been silent the whole time, looked up and smiled at Reese, going out of his way to serve her some roast beef with extra gravy.

Mrs. Hanson, embarrassed, gave a weak smile. She didn''t even try to argue with her son.fn0674 This update is avable on f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?/fn0674

Sylvia caught Yves''s eye, feeling a strange difort, but before she could look away, Reese misread the situation.

Reese reached over, blocking Yves'' fork. "Yves, don''t fuss over me. Don''t forget about Sylvia."

Sylvia was still in a daze when Yves,

a little annoyed, plopped a heap of potatoes and gravy into her bowl right on top of the soup she had finished. The broth sshed up, spilling onto her light sweater.  s

"I''d appreciate it if you remembered how to treat guests," Yves said coldly. "This isn''t the ce for you to throw a tantrum."

Sylvia pursed her lips and quietly dabbed at her sweater with a napkin. Her quiet eptance seemed to satisfy everyone at the table.

Everyone except for one pair of eyes, which lingered on her a little too long.