Her mother, I thought, must be hard working and have done well for herself and her daughter to live this well, and all by herself.Suddenly there was a...flashing light, and I turned around. There was Becky holding a camera taking pictures of me standing in her kitchen. “What? Becky, what are you doing?” I stammered.“I just wanted to get a picture of you here in my house.” She smirked. “Thank you once again Mr. Font, here’s the front door,” she gestured toward the door down the nearby hall.. She had it all planned and spoke as if the kids could be mail ordered. The problem was that she was already twenty-eight, had no boyfriend and no job. "Her clock was ticking," as she put it. Ursula wasn't at breakfast the following morning. I didn't see her until noon. "What did you put in that drink, Spencer?" she demanded. "I've got a splitting headache." "I really can't say, but I think it might have had some rum in it. It looked like you enjoyed it." "I did until this morning." She had her. More

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