Chapter 30I
t’s a glorious day, brisk and bright with fiery autumn foliage, orange and red and gold. Connie enjoys driving, likes feeling the car respond to a twist of her wrist or her foot on the pedal. Vince always drove so she seldom had the chance. They started out late enough to miss most of Thanksgiving Day traffic, and the girls are behaving under threat of missing Grandma’s turkey dinner.
Connie planted the last spring bulbs yesterday, an extravagant one hundred daffodils scattered throughout the perimeter of the property, which she’s been burying surreptitiously for the past week, when the girls are at school and Rita’s at work. She can’t wait to see their faces when the flowers appear like golden coins in the new grass come spring. Rita has promised to stay that long, no matter
