Jackie Sumrall

“may have the story wrong.” John stared at her for several seconds before he turned to his parents. “Why is she backing up? What’s going on here?” Griff looked at his wife. “Camille, I can’t believe you told Lucy that story.” “I didn’t! Some of the girls got carried away and told it before I could remember to stop them.” John glared at his parents. “I don’t think it’s fair for Lucy to know the story when I don’t.” “I think it’s time for dessert,” Camille announced. “I’ll help you clean up before you serve,” Lucy said, getting up, grateful for the interruption. “No, Lucy, you need to rest. I’ll help her serve.” Without pausing, John got up and began clearing the table. “Does that mean he’s forgotten?” Lucy whispered to Griff when the others had left the table. “I don’t think so,” Griff replied. “What can we do?” “You could stop whispering behind my back,” John pointed out from behind them. Lucy flushed bright red. “And, no, I haven’t forgotten. We’ll continue the discussion during dessert.”
― Judy Christenberry, A Randall Hero

“harp music floating quietly through”
― Sharon de Vita, I Married a Sheik