““into our house? (Don’t expect me to know. I was fast asleep.) When I’d finally staggered downstairs on Sunday morning, I’d found three messages from Mary Anne on the answering machine. Message one was a cheerful “Call me when you’re home.” Message two sounded a little concerned. By message three, I could tell she was fighting back tears. Thinking we were kidnapped. Imagining we’d decided to move to Hawaii. (Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea….) Mary””
