them. After Vicki died, her son found me and befriended not only me but also my children. And I outlived Ollie, who died at the astonishing age of seventy-four. My children adored him. We kept track of Misha’s work, though I never revealed my connection. I learned to play the piano; I read thousands of books. My life unfolded as most lives do, day upon day of doing my best and occasionally my worst, that human continuum. My passing arrived softly, in the company of my firstborn, and her firstborn, and Dawna-Lynn, who served her extra time and never went back.
Is Vicki her sister?
