"Good work. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. She looked into his eyes, truly noticing their gray color for the first time. Diane Vorsack clicked her tongue in a “tsk”. They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. He had heard this talk before. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century.
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