13
Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are“Oh!” With thoughts back in North Carolina and eyes on the cork flooring, I hadn’t immediately sighted Beatrice ten feet in front.
“Ma’am.”
On a small acacia-wood serving tray sat a steaming floral mug and slice of poppyseed strudel. She was wearing an Empire nightgown under a long matching cotton robe, belt loose, and a padded, quilted bonnet, something I thought could only be found in PBS sagas and epics. A thin sheen of oil glistened on her shriveled face. It seemed a little late in life for moisturizing and/or attempting to soften those “fine facial lines”, which she had more of than an Asian bitter melon.
“I’ve heard a few footfalls traipsing hallways this late evening,” I smiled. “I guess I’m as restless as you and the others. Maybe hot coc
