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“No one rang nation

“You’re not a Carnegie, are you?”

My throat aches as I force a smile “I suppose not”

I steel myself as Dot parks the Bronco in front of the café, where everyone and their laathered

Lamb! Baby! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I realize Mrs White has Baby When I got back to the clinic quarters yesterday, I didn’t even think to call her Oh, hoful of s atin front of my face

“What on earth?” she asks

“I realized Mrs White has Baby”

“Indeed she does She’s done a fine job, as you’d assume Come now, you can worry over that later”

Dot and I leave the food there in the Bronco and et shoulder pats and one-ars

“So delighted to see that face,” crows Mrs Burns, my old piano instructor

I ss, perhaps cinnah the café’s doorway We step inside and someone pats my shoulder—Mr Braun, my dear diabetic patient

“Glad to see you, lady”

We chat for a few htward The café’s rear corner comes into view over his shoulder, and my eyes snap to him: Declan

Oh, but he looks radiant He’s seated at round table, surrounded by adoring fans His dark hair is neat—a wee bit wavy—and his handsome face clean-shaven He’s clad in a pale blue Polo shirt, one thick ar atop the table as he nods attentively at Dot’s Mike Green

As for , but it’s all a dull buzz