11At the sound of raucous laughter, Frances looked at Molly with wide eyes. “What in God’s name is that?”
Molly grinned. “Probably the guests in the cottage. Two women, old friends in their mid-sixties. They are seriously enjoying themselves. Kind of thinking we’ll be like that when we get to be their age.”
“I don’t plan to,” said Frances, taking a sip of her wine. “Got any cheese?”
“As a matter of fact, I saw our favorite cheesemonger, Lela Vidal, at the market on Saturday. Got a brébis, a fantastic sheep’s cheese—help me eat it, it’s perfectly ripe. And what do you mean, you don’t plan to? You’d rather the alternative?”
“Oh, I don’t know, it was just something I said without thinking. I prefer to exist in total and complete denial that I will ever get the least bit old.”
“You are fo
