‘I am not!’ ‘You are too!’ ‘No, I’m not!’ ‘Are too!’ ‘Kids . . .’ Sunny said, in his most soothing tone. ‘Mother?’ Angie appealed to Bette. ‘Jesus . . .’ said Kit. Sasha burped monstrously and squealed, ‘It smells of pineapple!’ She breathed this fruity gift all over Solly the dog, who was sitting
Sunday night came round again in a flash. Back from the cabin Wednesday night, then a blur of rescheduled activities and work. One of those little two- or three-day spurts when Bette felt like she was the stage manager of a longrunning Broadway show called The Porter-Kennard Family. All she seemed to do was see
Kit Porter did not like the cabin. Or no, make that ‘The Cabin’, since everyone in her family had a habit of putting it in audible capitals. The Cabin is fun . . . The Cabin is magical . . . The Cabin speaks to nature, Bette actually said once . . . The Cabin
Tina was out in the yard when Bette called out to tell her that it was nine forty-five. Tina called back, ‘Great! Be right there.’ She switched off the watering hose and left it on the ground for Solly to lap at while she slipped her feet back into her Birkenstocks, ran her hand over
‘Tee?’ ‘Coming!’ ‘It’s starting . . .’ ‘I know, I know,’ Tina said, a little breathless as she scurried barefoot across the hardwood floor towards where Bette was sitting. ‘Everyone okay?’ Bette asked, making room by gently pushing Solly, a cute, very sleepy Cocker Spaniel, along onto the end of the sofa. ‘Mhmm.’ Tina reached
Love centered (chapter 3) Bette “ don’t hide from me tee” Tina stills her hands, now covering her breasts not looking at Bette, afraid of what she might see in her eyes. Those eyes that say more than anything that comes out of her mouth. Tina has always been able to read Bette so well