Epilogue
“I found the words,” she told Thor.
He licked her face, which made her glad about her staunch refusal to wear any makeup.
“You ready?” She scrubbed her fingers into his sides and he wiggled with delight. “Of course you are,” she acknowledged in her squeaky dog voice.
“He’s always ready,” Dilya laughed. “He’s a dog. How about you?”
Linda looked over at her. This time their dresses matched, or were at least color coordinated. Dilya had insisted and Linda had known better than to argue.
“You never were fifteen, were you?”
Dilya shrugged. She could pass for twenty-five in the elegant dress of pale-lavender silk with a wide white sash emphasizing her waist. She wore her hair down—the only styling battle that Linda had won in this entire affair other than no makeup. If Dilya’s ha
