Sublime

William’s wife wasn’t much of a reader anymore. Of course—he realized—Julia would have asked Sylvie to read his book. Not as an act of betrayal but as a way to bring her best self to the task. Julia’s love and ambition plus Sylvie’s critical-reading skills.

Beckett stands with me, digging around in his pocket. He’s still wearing his hot-pink fluffy earmuffs. “I’ll get the car.” “No!” comes a chorus from my sisters and Evelyn, still on the phone. Harper lobs a dinner roll right at his head.

daughter of well-known art therapist Pat B. Allen,