Grantham Manor_Affaires de Coeur_SNAKE EYES_GOING HOME
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Grantham Manor
"In 1755 Marcus Black lived at Grantham Manor with his Mother, Emelia Black, his wife Laura Black, and their two twin daughters Raven and Rose. Grantham Manor had been in the family for decades before and was built by the late William Black III after he migrated from Scotland. After Marcus, Emelia, and their twin daughters were killed in a buggy accident, Grandma Emelia had to go to a nursing home because she couldn’t take care of herself. Her other son, our ancestor, was studying in Europe at the time and had no plans of coming to America to take care of his mother and claim the manor...
Affaires de Coeur
When Mom died ten years ago, dad practically did too, even though the death certificate would list his official passing with today’s date. There are couples and then there are soulmates; mom and dad were the latter. They didn’t need to finish each other's sentences because they could converse without speaking. Theirs was a love story for the ages, which is why I am completely baffled at the picture I hold in my www.onedoor.cchands. I found it while cleaning out my dad’s dresser, in the bottom drawer hidden in a cigar box. It has to be at least 60 years old, faded with time but carefully preserved. On the fr...
SNAKE EYES
Clinton raised another forkful of his omelet to his mouth. He stopped chewing for a moment to say, “I tell you, there’s no other place like Vegas in the world.” Sarah smiled. “So you’ve said. Have you been to other places?”Clinton washed down the last bit of his Western omelet with a long sip of coffee. He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and set it near his empty plate. “Japan, Monte Carlo, Monaco-now that place is where the real money is. It just seemed everyone there, all dressed in their finest evening gowns and tuxedos,” He paused when a memory of Monaco touched his thoughts, ...
GOING HOME
GOING HOME“Powder River Home” came on the jukebox, just as the waitress set the bacon, eggs, and grits before the man at the counter. Staley’s, the only café in its one-horse town, was deserted, except for the customer, Annie, the waitress, and Reuben the cook. Within the hour, the local breakfast customers would start drifting in, but things were always slow at six o’clock.“Going home sounds pretty good, don’t it,” the customer said, addressing his plate more than Annie or Reuben. “Wonder what I’d do with myself if I just packed it in and went back to Hutto.” He looked up at Annie before ...