"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.)