TWELVE
The women hovered and spun around her, their spirited, excited chatter and laughter billowing about her like the swirl of a wind funnel. Sophia stood quiet and calm in the center of the furor, the vacuous eye of a turbulent storm, as they clasped the tiny buttons along the back of the satin green gown, fluffed at the pleats of the full overskirt, and fastened the emerald jewels at her wrist and throat. Her small, always tidy room of greens and pinks lay besieged by discarded ribbons and lace, intoxicating aromas, and chirping women. Their encouraging words flowed as constantly as the sea through the canals as if they took her quietude for displeasure and felt compelled to convince her of her beauty.
“This color is perfect for you, Sophi,” Mamma clucked near her ear.
“Your great-g
