Having fallen asleep in the chair, Tori was startled when she heard the screen door slam. As she jumped up, she felt that her pen was still in her hand.

She had clutched it as a baby cuddles her favorite plush toy.

"Tori?" Ginnie paused in the kitchen, where she looked out the window over the breakfast nook and saw the sun slowly dropping, the sky looking like a painter's palette awash in pinks and oranges and yellows. "How beautiful," she croaked.

"Ginnie? Ginnie. What time it is?"

Virginia read the clock on the microwave oven. "Eight-forty five," she rasped, heading for the study.

"That late? I slept so long, even through lunch. Where have you been all day?"

Ginnie sat in the overstuffed chair across from her sister. "Didn't Mary see my note?"

"What note?"

"I left a note for you on the desk. Where is Mary?"

"Your voice sounds awful. You sound like an old 33 for crying out loud."

"I am not supposed to talk for a few weeks. My vocal chords are shot to hell."

"Well, but that means..."

"That means I cannot read to you, yes; but I am working on finding a temporary replacement. I'll sit with you though until Mary gets back, so you're not lonely."

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