Libby admired her mother’s hair, which was not red-gold like Fiona’s but a beautiful rich brown, like shiny horse chestnuts.
Libby had secret hopes that her own straight, limp hair might turn from ordinary brown to gleaming chestnut as she got older, but so far it had shown no sign of changing.
When she had asked her aunt whether she might one day become a redhead, Auntie Fee had just laughed and said she should be grateful to have nice brown hair and no freckles.
-Katie Flynn
Such Sweet Sorrow
