If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. My Mom and Dad were on the brink of divorce, what else is new, they still are. Martha had grumbled at being obliged to report the matter to Mother Josephine, who had decreed that Melusine must confess to Father Saint-Simon. “Shari told me.
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