Neither one cared much for the other. But the two sisters did love each other – as siblings mostly do.
Lenore was the practical one. She was solid, trustworthy, and frugal. Marilyn was a dreamer;
unpredictable and unreliable. Yet, it was Marilyn who attracted friends and admirers.
Popularity is a funny thing. It seems that God adds a little extra likeability to some of His children and skips others.
Lenore was often passed over by her classmates and then her co-workers when they chose their social cliques. It’s not that Lenore is an outcast, it’s more like she’s in, but barely noticed.
Eventually the two sisters went their separate ways, seeing each other rarely; at the
hospital when their mom died, at their father’s bedside when lung cancer struck and killed him. That was it for the sisters. The end of their parents led to the end of them.
At least for a long while.
Marilyn married well, to Tom, a heck of a good guy who adored his dreamy wife. They had three children and they would say; a happy life.
Lenore lived alone but not lonely. She found company in her cats, who amused her and kept her busy with their care and feeding.
She was
accustomed to her daily routine. She had a decent job with the electric company. It kept her intellectually stimulated and suited her practical nature. Lenore’s weekends were pleasant enough; enjoying a free concert in the park, church on Sunday, occasionally treating herself to a meal out.
One fine day in early September she was noticed.
A man engaged her in conversation while she was having dinner at the Corral over on Spring Street in the heart of downtown St. Louis.
Lenore
and Martin started out talking about the food, their shared annoyance at the rude addition of televisions everywhere on every wall, and finally they talked about Lenore.
Martin was interested. Lenore was interesting. Forty-five years of stories, observations and opinions flowed like a mighty stream.
Meanwhile barely an hour’s drive north, Marilyn was in crisis...READ MORE
