Mara sat on the stone hearth poking at the log in the fireplace, sending sparks shooting up the chimney, being mindful not to get caught up in the glow of the embers. A speck of ash flew out, landing on her gray sweatpants. She flicked it back into the fire then moved the black metal screen in place before returning to the couch. Picking up her book, she curled up against one arm and pulled a beige-and-maroon afghan over her feet.
Diana walked into the room, wrapping a white crocheted shawl over her shoulders. “Why are you sitting around on a Friday night all by yourself? Why don’t you come with me? Mrs. James would love to see you.”
“Mrs. James is more interested in seeing my aura than seeing me,” Mara said. “And I don’t need her to tell me it’s running a little on the gray side at the
