McKettrick's Heart. Linda Lael Miller

       “Look at me, carrying on!” Florence boomed, straightening her shoulders, picking up a table napkin and swabbing at her tears. “You need me to be strong, and I’m falling apart like an old potato sack with its seams bursting.”

       “It’s all right,” Psyche repeated.

       The door opened again, and Molly stood on the threshold, looking as though she didn’t know whether to join Psyche and Florence or dash back into the house.

       “Come and sit down, Molly,” Psyche said. “I want to hear all about your walk with Lucas.”