I could really use a fountain Diet Coke right about now was an honest-to-God thought that popped into my head as I sat on the bed staring at the body of my freshly deceased husband. Widowerhood had left me parched. With a weeping Marilyn clutching Kit’s hand and Bob perched beside her, I stood up, ambled into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and reached for a Diet Half ’n Half Snapple (lemonade and iced tea), which was not far from a half-empty bottle of sauvignon blanc. Three months earlier I would’ve pushed the Snapple aside and seized the vino. But now that I’d been off the sauce for three
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