We received minute-by-minute updates on her progress through the hospital, who she had greeted and taken pictures with, who had gotten autographs, and...all sorts of ridiculous stuff. At 1030 she got to the door. There was a knock, and the lieutenant opened the door and ushered her in. By that point I half expected him to lay down on the floor so she could walk across his body.If he had, he would have been trampled to death by the horde that followed her. A pair of photographers followed her into. Mrs. Phelps was murmuring, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," in my ear, while Charlotte just sobbed into my chest. Paul, whose exasperated objections went unheard, finally gave up and shrugged."Just let him breathe, okay ladies?" he pleaded.Mrs. Phelps broke away with one last "Thank you," and a kiss on my cheek, then stepped away to have a hushed conversation with my mother.I could smell Charlotte's shampoo in her hair, along with a hint of baby powder. For just a few short moments, even. More

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