
Elizabeth Strout Reads "Motherless Child"
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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The Story of Natalie
Olive had expected chaos. Neither of Anne's children spoke a word to Olive. Not a thank you, or a please. They thought they were horrible children. She stood up and said, I'll get supper started. In the kitchen, she lit the oven and put in the casserole that she had made that morning with scallops and sour cream. Then she returned to the living room. A little Henry was a sweet thing in his way. But when Olive asked to hold Natalie, the baby started screaming her little head off.
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