"But Mom! We don't even know anything about her or her family. Then how can you take a decision like this?"
Mabel Hawk, lying back against her pillow with a huff, glared at her daughter and then at the others in the room. Ostensibly, her filial children had come to visit her and welcome her home from the hospital. But here they were, trailing behind her into the room to complain and whine. She directed a particularly sharp glare at Charles and Miranda-her own flesh and blood, who were standing at the foot of the bed, clearly avoiding her gaze.
If only she'd taken a stick to them when they were children, maybe they'd have had some sense.
