Beth did, that's true. It's just that it was always, on some level, about her, and Joan scratched a nerve without effort. She's left wanting to burrow away somewhere, under covers, in a room with a door that locks.

You don't get to do that, she reminds herself. Stop it.

"Georgia," she says, her voice soft, and it's good as a yes under the circumstances. She slides off of the chaise and stands up.