FIVE‘But that’s incredible.’ Myrna didn’t want to sound as though she doubted her friend, but really, ‘incredible’ was charitable. It was unbelievable. And yet despite the cup of tea and fire in the grate her forearms broke out in goose bumps.
They’d driven home from Montreal in silence, listening to the Christmas Concert on CBC Radio. The next morning Clara was at her bookshop bright and early and eager to talk.
‘It is,’ Clara agreed, sipping tea and taking another star-shaped shortbread cookie, wondering when she could in all conscience start eating from the bowls of licorice goodies and candied ginger Myrna had scattered around.
‘She really said, “I’ve always loved your art, Clara”?’
Clara nodded.
‘And this was right after CC said your work was, well, whatever.’
‘Not just CC but F
