The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. “Girls. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. Cathy and Larry were working late, and Mike and Shari had begun jobs themselves, Mike delivering pizza and Shari working at Victoria’s Secret. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. ’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise. “Cool. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really.
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