La vida
When the door swung open, for a heartbeat I thought I was seeing a ghost from a bygone era.
Margaret Whitmore wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron and peered once more into the oven.
Emily had been a gentle, caring child. Her mother often reminded her, Your father, George, was a man
Margaret wiped her hands on her apron and peered into the oven once more. The apple pie had browned nicely
10October Ive been trying to keep my composure while the clatter of cutlery and the soft murmur of other
From an early age Victoria was gentle and caring. Her mother often said, Our little girl inherited my
The night settled over London like a shroud, heavy with the promise of sorrow. Thick clouds crept across
I could no longer live a lie, my friend confessed over dinner. Are you out of your mind? How much does
“Stop, you madman!” someone shrieked as the slap landed. The sound rang through the crowded