obstinacy for masterfulness, alcoholism for wit, and laziness for charisma...' She broke off apologetically, realizing that it was her daughter's father she was criticizing. 'It wasn't all bad,' she said robustly. 'Everyone was more stoical in those days-we were taught to put up with things-and look what I got out of it. You ... Matt ... the house...'
Maggie leaned forward to kiss her mother's cheek. 'Ava ... Martin ... theft ... debts ... heartache ... a wonky hip...'
'Life,' countered Celia. 'A still-viable livery stable ... Bertie ... a new kitchen ... a future...'
'Nick Ingram?'
'Well, why not?' said Celia with renewed chuckles. 'If I was forty years younger and he showed the remotest interest in me, I certainly wouldn't need a bottle of brandy to get things moving.'
