When Eleanor Lost Access to Her Own Money, Everything Changed

patience had expired.

She looked like me at forty-eight, though she would hate to hear it.

Same sharp chin.

Same wide-set eyes.

Same habit of pressing her lips together when trying not to say the first thing that came to mind.

She stood on my porch and looked me up and down.

“You look thin,” she said.

“You look bossy.”

“I brought soup.”

“Then come in.”

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