Mary was pressed to the window, remaining teeth bared in a mournful grimace with every gust. Her shawl was still about her shoulders, pulled tight around her in bony fists. Her head whipped around when she heard them.

“Girls! Oh, God. Tell me it isn’t so bad out there as it looks in here.”

Mary’s accent was thick and heavy, but the writer sucks at accents.

Then, she caught sight of Lory.

“You’re back early.”

“Got lucky,” Lory said casually, meeting her mother’s gaze. “Sold out.”

“There was hardly anything to sell,” her mother sighed back.

Mary’s gaze lingered on her daughter as Lory sat with the younger kids to keep them occupied. Then, Mary turned back to grimacing at the window.