Archive | August 2015
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Phillipe came up the passage with his courage wound up tight. Nona Verdi heard it in his footsteps, and in the set of his shoulders as he came level with her window. It was all she could do to keep from laughing to see it drain away when he found three contented cats sunning themselves […]
They say it’s sweet, and they think that I don’t hear, but it’s my eyes, not my ears, that have failed with the passing years. I can barely see the gleam on my third finger, but I hear every whisper from my sentimental granddaughters. That’s a secret worth keeping, so I don’t argue with them. […]