The first day at her aunt Olive’s house, Ophelia had been afraid; by the last day, she was terrified.
She could see it through the window, dirt and boards and cracks in the glass; Olive’s garden had bloomed.
Next time they come down here, I’ll kill them, Nervous swore and this time, he meant it.
Downstairs in the windowless basement, he had no way of seeing the “For Sale” sign pounded into the dry earth in the front yard.
“It’s not fair,” Cassandra sobbed, collapsing into her father’s stiff embrace.
Don had said he’d never leave her, but he’d done exactly that; she hadn’t even finished the operation!
“Goodnight, Porthos,” Cyd Roseland said as the bed dipped beneath the dog’s weight.
He was just thinking to himself that his old friend might need to go on a diet when he heard Porthos begin to bark in the hallway.