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Although the black and white picture couldn't reveal the bonnet's colour, Olivia knew that it was mint-green with matching ribbon ties. She had seen the bonnet, Katherine had unwrapped it from a bed of white tissue paper. Olivia had held the bonnet. Her fingers had glided over the fine stitches and silk ribbon.
Who had crocheted the bonnet? That question had never been addressed. Certainly Esther hadn't made it. Sh had dabbled in drawing. "Amateur pencil sketches" is how she had described her art. She had never crafted. Was it a class distinction? Olivia wondered.
Had the bonnet been crocheted by a proud grandmother?
Possibly, but Olivia doubted it was Esther's mother. Esther's parentage had never been discussed. Indeed, Olivia had never even heard of aunts, uncles, cousins or siblings. And none had attended the funeral.
Had Grandma Esther been an orphan? And if so, had she been an orphan of birth or circumstance? Had her family turned their back on her due to some unforgivable sin?
Questions everywhere Olivia looked.
Will I ever find the answers? she wondered.
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