Barbara Kowalczyk set down her coffee mug, since the chamomile tea had long gone cold, and started packing
Denise Okafor knew the exact sound of her husband's truck backing out of the driveway before dawn
I was eighteen the night I walked into the Lincoln High spring formal with the only family I had left
Marion Delacroix-Whitfield had been running the Wednesday potluck at St. Aloysius Parish in Baton Rouge
Denise Calloway had worked the front desk at Miller & Sons Auto Body for eleven years before her
The house sat right where Route 9 rolled into Maple Hollow, a small town in the Ozark hills of Missouri
Earl Hutchins had been walking since sunrise, and by the time the light started going gold and low over
Grandma Ruth kept a coffee can full of screws on the windowsill above the sink, and Danny used to climb
Diane Whitfield had never set foot on a runway. She was fifty-eight, had worked as a labor and delivery
I do title work in Charleston, South Carolina — twenty-two years now, mostly closings, some probate filings