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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, Orange 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.
We had the same cookie-loving
gene.