They were special now, at this time.Rachael had put a clock on the fireplace mantle, an old fashionedVictorian design with hands that looked like blac... lace. They tried toignore it and were successful for the first hour, but around eleveno'clock their glances that way became more frequent, as if they could slowtime by looking at the clock hands more often.They spoke, quietly, about how they had met, about highlights in theirdating life, about friends who had wished them the best but worried. ”Bec’s eyes flashed and she planted herself in front of Ethel Gallagher with her fists on her hips – every inch the image of an angry six year old – every inch a miniature version of her mother.“If you poke me with that finger again, I’ll bite it. You think I’m rude? I’m not the one poking people with her bony old finger.”I was awed to hear my shy little Bec barking at the woman so ferociously. I was half-way across the room. My fists were clenched so tight, my nails were digging into my palms.. More

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