"Don't worry. They'll love you, darling."

"Charles says it doesn't matter. He loves me. And I adore him. I can't wait for you to meet him. He's fantastic."

"I'm sure he is." She would never meet Charles. She would never hold a grandchild in her lap. No. I must not think about that. "Does he know how lucky he is to have you, baby?"

"I keep telling him." Tracy laughed. "Enough about me. Tell me what's going on there. How are you feeling?"

You're in perfect health, Doris, were Dr. Rush's words. You'll live to be a hundred. One of life's little ironies. "I feel wonderful." Talking to you.

"Got a boyfriend yet?" Tracy teased.

Since Tracy's father had died five years earlier, Doris Whitney had not even considered going out with another man, despite Tracy's encouragement.

"No boyfriends." She changed the subject. "How is your job? Still enjoying it?"

"I love it. Charles doesn't mind if I keep working after we're married."

"That's wonderful, baby. He sounds like a very understanding man."

"He is. You'll see for yourself."

There was a loud clap of thunder, like an offstage cue. It was time. There was nothing more to say except a final farewell. "Good-bye, my darling." She kept her voice carefully steady.

"I'll see you at the wedding, Mother. I'll call you as soon as Charles and I set a date."

"Yes." There was one final thing to say, after all. "I love you very, very much, Tracy." And Doris Whitney carefully replaced the receiver.

**********

She picked up the gun. There was only one way to do it. Quickly. She raised the gun to her temple and squeezed the trigger.