Rebecca’s eyes shine with delight as she places a pair of elegant high-heeled shoes in my lap. The shoes are impeccable1 in their simplicity, and nothing but my old knobby2 hands mar their sleek lines.
“Such fine leather! These are lovely.”
“And only eighty-five dollars!”
“Heavens!I must be getting old, Rebecca. That seems a great deal of money for a pair of shoes.”
“Oh, Nana, I knew you’d say that.”
Rebecca’s lustrous hair swings in a soft curl as she leans forward to touch my cheek with a kiss. Her perfume embodies the essence of spring and of youth. At twenty-three, she is the baby of the f***ly.