" enceinte.” “Polly, how unkind!” I scolded, my gaze whipping up. But something about the comment drew my father’s eyes to Sally’s middle. I looked, too, taking in the slight swell beneath the pink-ribboned belt of her flowing chemise gown. The moment might’ve passed without suspicion had Sally not spread her fingers over her belly like a fan, and turned her amber gaze to my father in what looked to be heartbreaking desperation. My sister giggled. But Sally didn’t laugh and neither did my father. Instead, they exchanged a stricken, naked look between them that resounded like a "

― Stephanie Dray , America's First Daughter