Excerpt from The Blond Leading the Blond:
The pantry held a treasure trove of snacks. My gaze flitted from cereal shelf to canned vegetables shelf to crunchy snacks shelf and then, lo and behold, a dessert shelf. Lined up in alphabetical order was the entire line of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies: Double Chocolate, Milk Chocolate, Mint,
and Raspberry. I gasped with the realization that Aunt Izzy was alive. Not “alive” in the physical sense, in that she’d been pirated away in the witness protection program somewhere, and another woman’s face had been beaten beyond recognition, or even the paranormal sense in that her spirit would be dragging chains down the stairs or moaning at all hours of the night. I meant alive in that she was not a glossy photograph but a real flesh-and-blood woman who had lived and breathed and loved and shared her DNA. With me. Orange
We had the same cookie-loving gene.