" A deep plum color infused his cheeks, and he leaned toward her: "Whatever happens is well deserved. Whose fault is it that my daughter may die?"

"I'm not sure," Louise said thoughtfully, moving her glass in damp circles on the table. "Maybe it's Philadelphia's fault for not saying no when she should have. Maybe it's your fault for not setting limits and for letting her believe rules don't apply to her. Maybe it's Max's fault because he loved her too much. Maybe it's your wife's fault for dying too soon. Maybe it's my fault for marrying Max when I didn't even want to. Maybe it's Livvy's fault for buying land outside Fort Houser and making it possible for her son to meet your daughter. Maybe the weather is to blame for providing a warm spring evening conducive to poking. I don't know who or what is to blame. What difference does it make? Will assigning blame change anything? "

― Maggie Osborne