Maeve motioned to the one couch in the room. "Would you like to sit down? I'm sorry we don't have a few comfortable chairs and occasional tables." She was babbling out of sheer nervousness.
"The couch is fine," Natalie said, equally stilted, and sat down. "Do you have a cold, Marcie?"
"No why?"
"Your voice sounds different."
Maeve shrugged. "I didn't realize."
"It's deeper than I remember, pleasanter on the ear." Natalie blushed and fiddled with the cake cover. "Not that there's anything wrong with your normal voice."
Larz grunted something at the doctor.
Maeve made herself sit next to the woman who gave birth to Larz. Though Natalie clearly tried to hide it, Maeve could see the dislike in her eyes. She didn't even want to imagine what she'd said to her before she woke without her memory.
She tried to look harmless. "You came in a moment of small crisis. Your son seems to think I'm rotting."