Page 31 - Self Talk

polished brass doorknocker to the obsessively groomed leafless lawn.
I downed two glasses of water, wishing they were wine, in the kitchen while Margaret disappeared down the hall to announce my arrival. From what I could see of the adjoining rooms, the Queen Ann chairs, camelback loveseats, pedestal tables and brass lamps were all perfectly matched like
you’d see in a furniture showroom, or museum in Colonial Williamsburg.
None of it appeared very livable, or lived in, for that matter. Except for a persistent refrigerator hum, the house was eerily silent.
Margaret suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her earlier composure had faded and her face looked drawn.