“The house is ours.”
“And nobody is ever making you eat lunch in the front seat of a car again.”
General Eleanor Mercer stepped to the other side of my chair, resting her warm hand on my shoulder, looking out over the sparkling expanse of the great water:
“The dishes are done, Clara,” Aunt Eleanor smiled softly:
“The line holds true.”
I reached up, wrapping my strong, loving hands around both Willa and Aunt Eleanor, feeling the living, breathing miracle of a family that had survived the storm, uncovered the treason, and gathered upon solid rock:
“Nobody is ever touching our threshold again, my loves,” Colonel Clara Eleanor Mercer replied:
“The house is clean.”
“The table is full.”
“The line holds true.”
Mounted in solid teak on the cedar wall of the pavilion behind our rocking chairs…
