I had too much to think about. I lay staring into the darkness long after my parents had climbed into bed and turned out their lights. In my mind I had already tucked them in, as though they were loving children to be protected. I didn’t want to take any chance that they would restrict what I had...
CHAPTER EIGHT The minute I walk into the safety of my own kitchen, I dump my books on the table. I go to the telephone and get the number for the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. I’m finally connected to someone who, I hope, can answer my question. “Is the painting Madame Kupka among Vertic...
The sky was the same brilliant blue, its clouds handpainted a little too brightly white, the sun warm against Jennifer’s back. The constant breeze from the south carried the heavy fragrance of overblown flowers from the red and pink oleanders that lined Ocean Drive, and people went about their bu...
Dave asks me later, so I tell him Julie’s story. “That’s weird,” he says. He leans back on the thick pad of grass under Mrs. Cardenas’s crape myrtle tree. The tree is dotted with hard little gray-green balls that in a few weeks will relax and become fragile pink flowers. “Her story is possible,” ...
These drapes were made of dark red velvet trimmed with gold fringe, and the matching piece stretched over the center part of the window was rounded at the top. After the drapes had been taken down, my creative mother took a second look at them and thought what a wonderful covering they’d make for...