“Ah, yes! Come I will show you. We keep those for special customers, those with better than tourist tastes. Who is your mother?”
“Rosaline Cross,” she replied automatically, hardly expecting Auria to know her by name.
The woman turned happily, gasping as she took Mara’s hands in hers. “You’re Rosie’s daughter? You must be Mara. You have your mother’s eyes and her full lips. How’s your mother and when is she coming to see Auria again?”
“Mom’s doing great,” Mara was surprised at the warmth of the greeting. “She’s planning to come down in February, I think. Right now she’s house sitting for me. I’ve got a couple of grumpy, old cats who don’t do well in a kennel.”
“Who can blame them? Cats are independent natured. You can’t trap the wind and water, so why try to cage a cat?” Her smile was warm and welcoming. “I have just…
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