Sisters are like that; you can't spend too much time with them without fighting about something.
My name is Antoinette Beauchamp, pronounced BEECH-um, and I am my mother's daughter
Mothers don't cry at weddings because they're sentimental-- xxx Mothers cry because they know how hard it's going to be.
Memories haunted the Ghostwood, brittle as the twigs that splintered like tiny bones under Mark's boots. Sifting through drooping cedar boughs, the old wind muttered of things that waited in darkness...
Little Jang Li-Li, eight years old, misting the orchids in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. A bright day, sunlight pouring through transparisteel panels, Li-Li making puffs of water with her mister a...
How much of life is like this? Mark wondered. Is that what being grown-up means? Saying goodbye as often as hello?
Hello?Ah, is this the ... Bow-shawmp residence? There was no trace of a Texas twang in the caller's accent, nor anything of the South.Beech-um, yes, that's us. Sorry.Ah, yeah. Beech-um? Okay.
He steepled his fingers in monkish solemnity. You cannot hide from Fate, my son. Sarah grunted. People don't have fates. No: fates have people, Jet said, suddenly serious.
He noticed Miss Bettie was wearing a watch, a steel Rolex with diamond chips. What time is it? he asked. Miss Bettie glanced at him and laughed. You do seem to have difficulty remembering, don't you?...
For long after guilty memories fade, the urge for penance lingers: strong and blind as the will to drink rain and grope for sunlight.
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