Anne of Gruesome Gables poured tea, and now was steadying her hand to cut the cake. The knife was not large enough to dispose of her frowning relatives quickly. It was tempting, while pouring the boiling hot tea, trying not to scald them.
The party guests deserved whatever they got, and might this be the perfect timing, her mother’s birthday? Mary’s hand braced, although her instincts were to dispose of the women, once and for all. She glanced at their always disapproving faces, while horrid childhood memories flooded.
Maybe I’ll celebrate at Christmas–New Year’s would be appropriate, she thought, smiling.