When Megan entered the limo that was waiting for her at the San Francisco airport, she gasped. The unexpected passenger sent her a guilty grin.
“Joseph! What are you doing here?” (see The Unknowable, Revealed?).
“Namaste,” Megan’s assistant replied. “I figured you weren’t the only one who needed a quiet and reflective week.” Continue reading
I’d been in love with this man since I was 12. But he was inaccessible. The years passed and I fell in love with someone my age – several times. Bruce. Jackson. Married him. He turned out to not be what he seemed. We divorced. Then I married Derek, a man who was more than he seemed. And he seemed pretty darn wonderful.
So, imagine my surprise when after Derek and I were married for a few years, my brother announced nonchalantly, “It’s amazing how much Derek looks like Paul.”
Continue reading
I don’t like pot pie. Well, deep inside I do, since my blood is English – way back to my great-great grandparents. So sure, I like pot pie the same way I like rose gardens and floral wallpaper and hot tea with milk.
But I used to never eat pot pie because, to be honest, it’s fattening; all flour and butter in the crust; butter and flour in the gravy; and then a speck of chicken in there. With maybe a pea or two. Continue reading
“I think we need to return,” he whispered in her ear. An ear he knew so well, shell-shaped and as pink as a wish.
“No!” she protested. “We’re safe here. Let’s just roam.”
His smile, small and protective, told her everything she needed to know.
“It’s okay, you know. It’s okay the way things are,” he assured her. Continue reading
I hate department stores. I don’t use the word “hate” lightly. The empty vastness of material nothingness; the bright lights spotlighting our greed; the vapid noise of elevator music and high-pitched meaningless laughter.
Thus, when my daughter suggests I go with her and my 11-year-old granddaughter for a girls’ day of shopping, I respond immediately:
“Of course. I’d love to.”
