“It must be so very intriguing to be a twin. Tell me, dear Amanda, how is it different than not being one?”[…]
I must have worn my disdain on my face because my mother shot me one of her legendary warning looks the moment my lips parted to reply. Because I did not wish to embarrass my mother (and not because I felt any need to make Mrs. Brougham feel cleverer than she actually was), I said, “I suppose one always has a companion.”
“But your brother is not here now,” one of the Brougham girls said.
“My father is not always with my mother, and I would imagine that she considers him to be her companion,” I replied.
“A brother is hardly the same as a husband,” Mrs. Brougham trilled.
“One would hope,” I retorted. Truly, this was one of the more ridiculous conversations in which I had taken part.