Myra and My UrgesChapter 1
During the summer of my fourteenth year, my mother and four of her friends rented a cottage up on Sylvan Beach, a small resort about a hundred and sixty miles from home. They were all bridge fanatics and their plan was to play as much bridge as they could, going at it day and night. Mom had hired a daughter of one of her bridge cronies to stay with me while our two moms went upstate. Myra was eighteen and had just graduated from high school. She drove over early the morning my Mom was...