[link] Photo 9

Production Assistant Nicole held it out. "From your nephew."

I'd been so proud of that coat, that matching bag; so eager to head off to my new life at U.C. Berkeley. Brother Chuck was attempting to be cool, trying not to be impressed that his mousy little sister was daring the Big City.

1969 saw me burning the coat as a sign of bourgeois sensibility, but I held on to enough of my senses to finish Journalism School and get a job with local TV news. Now I was retiring, and the office was looking for embarassing material to use in the retrospectives.

At least the coat was long gone.

Nicole looked over my shoulder. "I'd kill for a coat like that, it's so hip and retro."

Hehe. When my grandmother passed away I scarfed up her faux-leopard coat, hat and purse. The coat didn't fit me so I gave it to one of my daughter's friends. I do wear the hat and the purse upon occassion.

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No woman had ever gone all the way around the lake, not without a man along to do the "heavy" work. Lem, their brother, laughed at both of them when they asked to borrow the boat. He told them both not to make spectacles of themselves. He warned them they could get hurt. Lalie snapped her fingers at him and started untying the bow.

Cora and Lalie didn't tell anyone else about their plans, but by duskof the perfect end-of-summer day, a crowd had gathered. Most of the folks from the cabins on the shore had gathered near Isaacson's store. There was some hooting and catcalling when their skirts rode up as they carried the boat over the pier, some cheering, but everyone was watching. Lem took the mooring rope from Lalie's hand. This time when she snapped her fingers, he smiled. Lem mentioned the boat trip at Cora's funeral. He was proud folks still remembered it 60 years later. "I was there to see them off" he said.

Photo 6

They’d made me redundant, my sons.

Theirs were the names on Ivy’s tongue, the hair smoothed beneath her hand, the dreams that quivered beneath her lashes as we lay in bed each night. They were the reason for the spicy perfume of apple brown betty in the kitchen, the carefully planned excursions to the seashore, the sleek piano in the parlor with its full-throated song, every penny she secreted away for rainy days to come.

Maurice was her lifeline when Bernard drowned. I grieved for the sons I never had a chance to know, the wife who had abandoned me for motherhood.

Has anyone pointed Sophia to photo 9? Because it's so her!

Edit: You know what, she's never around, but I'm going to email it to her.

Has anyone pointed Sophia to photo 9? Because it's so her!

lightbulb goes off

THAT'S why the girl in the photo looked so familiar! I was actually wondering, in livejournal, where I'd met her.

I admit, as soon as I saw that photo, I thought of Sophia.

I'm actually working on some edits to Cruel Sister right now. This is the first I've done on the book since the flooring insanity began, and it may work to my advantage, since the six or so week hiatus away from the book brings me to it with fresh eyes.

For Photo 7:

That day was the last time I saw Robert. We had slipped away from our offices, meeting in the park across from his hospital. Sitting so close that I could make out the brown fleck in the blue of his left eye, I wondered if the warmth I felt was from the sun dappled across our backs, or from his arm brushing mine.

His voice cracked as he said, "I have some news." It seemed that his uncle, who managed the family trust, had seen us one afternoon at the theatre before the lights had fully dimmed, watching as Robert brushed my cheek with his fingertips.

Research, Robert said, took money. He couldn't risk that.

Three months later, he and Susan were married.

Photo #8

My God, I love those women. I loved them within a month of meeting them, and I still love them, even now that two of us are dead. We called ourselves the Fantastic Five, knowing full well we were a decade past the time for Fantastic Fives. It fit us, somehow, just as we fit with each other. I still remember the night we took that picture. It was late one night, a week or so before Spring Break our freshman year. Janet wanted pictures of us to show her parents, to prove we were all proper young ladies.

I’m pretty sure she didn’t show them this one.