I can’t believe am hearing this. I was standing in the sea of wet towels, while my daughter and the man I love discussed my fate as though I was to play a minor role in it.
“We have got to think of a way to include Angela,” Desmond said thoughtfully.
“I’m going to change my clothes,” I Murmured, eager to escape.
“Good idea,” Desmond answerd, without looking her.
I stomped if to my bedroom and slammed the door.i discarded my pajamas and, shivering reached for a thick sweater and blue jeans.
Desmond and Gabriela were still in the bathroom doorway, discussing details, when I reappeared. I moved silently around them and into the kitchen, where I made a cup of coffee. Then I gathered up the wet towels, hauled them onto the black porch, threw them into the washer and started the machine. By
