Ruth's memoir project, mentioned only in passing at the wedding reception months earlier, had grown, by early autumn, into something considerably more substantial than Wren had initially expected, fueled by Ruth's own surprising discipline and Colleen's enthusiastic, well-organized assistance during the school year's more manageable stretches.
"I've written nearly sixty pages," Ruth reported, during a video call that had become a regular weekly fixture in Wren's schedule, the older woman's study visible behind her, stacks of notebooks and printed archive documents spread across a desk that had clearly become the memoir's genuine command center. "I never expected, at seventy-four, to discover I had this much to say. I think I've been carrying the material for years without realizing it — e
