"So how much work did you get done this winter?"

He's my dealer. He knew damn well I hadn't done enough painting this winter. Busy making stew and putting on long underwear. Dozing before the fire drinking coffee laced with tequila and reading books I wouldn't have been caught dead with ten years ago. Vicarious romance. Youth coming together. Undoubtably marching heedless towards divorce. (which the writers of these books don't usually chronicle unless it is the divorce of an attractive male protagonist who is conveniently now in search of a new romance.)

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