The Italian Cr che
Emily stopped at her bureau in the sleeping L off her living space while en route to the kitchenette to warm Margaret’s tea. She couldn’t help herself. She had to open the top drawer just enough to be able to pull out the old worn coin purse and check inside one more time. With the check her nephew, Jonathan, had sent her for Christmas she just might have enough now. And just in time. At least she’d have enough if they had taken their prices down again. This was the last time they’d do so...