door was opened by a petite woman wearing a black pantsuit and white apron. Her hair was styled in a close perm around her head and her red lipstick shouted personality. Her blue eyes twinkled when she saw Jenna. “I expect you’re Mrs. Winton?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Come right in, then. Mr. Winston said I should bring you into the parlor.” She stopped walking for a moment and lowered her voice. “I think he’s tired of talking politics, and he’d much rather sit down and talk with you.” She glanced at Jenna’s belly. “I know all about what’s going on. I heard Mr. Winston talking to his lawyer.” She started walking again.
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