Mary adjusted her mauve corset. It always pinched her left shoulder blade, but it was a Lady’s lot. The guard at the door kept cadence as he “escorted” her to the dining room. The infare for her brother’s new bride showed a course of Freya’s favorite foods with gravlax, salmon, meatballs, including a lingonberry dessert.
As the orchestra started playing, her brother entered the room. Mary resented the gimmick of everyone bowing to the new bride, but followed suit as a necessary compliment. It wouldn’t do to cause any sputtering gossip from the older women in attendance, and Mary curtsied politely, never revealing her true feelings. From now on Mary would no longer be in the powerful position sitting at her brother’s side. The Scandinavian usurper had arrived.
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The Bag Lady 
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