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A novel
by Susanna Moore
It took us an hour to walk to Elm Street where my mother's cousin Peggy worked as cook in the rectory of St. Anne's. She said we could sleep in a shed in the yard, but only for a few nights, as the priest would not like it. I found some old newspapers in the shed, padded my new shoes, and began to look for work. To my surprise, as I had neither looks nor education, and no experience in the world other than counting cows, I found a place within days, working as a sweeper for a jeweler on Dyer Street who allowed me to sleep on a horsehair mattress in the attic of his shop. My mother disappeared.
Excerpted from The Lost Wife by Susanna Moore. Copyright © 2023 by Susanna Moore. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
On the whole, human beings want to be good, but not too good and not quite all the time
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