As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. “He is very kind, Anna, really, and not half such a prig as he seems. “But I am your husband,” he said. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. ” “I realize I can’t see my mom or brother again. You must live for me. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years.
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