”“He, as Marilyn said in a chapter meeting, comes to the door before a date. But, then, they walk.”“No longer. He still comes to the door. He�...�s a gentleman. But, this year, he’s a gentleman with a car.”“He has a car, Marilyn? How nice.”“Yeah. Sometimes that clump of trees down the street got cold, or wet, or crowded.” Willa laughed. Barbara looked puzzled. “We’ll have to show it to you sometime. It’s the only privacy that pedestrians can get for a little good-night kiss.”“Don’t let her fool. Shay’s mind shot back a few months. She found herself in front of a brownstone, an unremarkable building that was the first thing that she could really remember. At that time, she looked down at her hands and saw changes in them that she didn't recognize. The car she was driving was pretty ordinary, but she didn't recognize it. She glanced in the rear mirror and saw a semi-familiar face, but one more reminiscent of her mother than herself. She sat there not sure what to do, or what she was. More

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