Shattering a cup, in itself, might not mean much.
But in the next moment, Summer Thorne heard Laura Thorne let out a low cry of pain, followed by another, more distant exclamation. "Ma'am, you're hurt…"
'If she didn't have something to hide, she wouldn't have shattered a cup just from hearing a name. And after shattering it, an adult wouldn't get so flustered they'd cut themselves.'
Summer Thorne listened quietly to the commotion on the other end before finally asking, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Laura Thorne said hurriedly. "My hand just slipped…"
Hearing the slight breathlessness in her voice, Summer Thorne paused for a moment before continuing, "Good, as long as you're okay. By the way, I was just talking to Mr. Morgan. We mentioned that when you were younger, someone painted a portrait of you among roses, but Mr. Morgan couldn't quite recall who painted it. So, I figured I'd call and ask you."
