It was so lovely, the cypress almost within touching distance from the opened bedroom window, and just as lovely in the photo Delia was holding before she wrote on the back, “Remember the nights outside with this!”
She then slipped the photo into a copy of The Cherry Orchard on the bedroom bookcase.
Her friend Annie Weston, who was also her solicitor, laughed as she watched her. “I thought you agreed with Bruno to move anything you wanted out by next weekend?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing. Anything I want will be gone by then.”
They were mates from way back, but Annie didn’t think it was her place to say what “matrimonial property” might be claimed. Bruno, of course,