(Photo copyright Kent Bonham)
In defiance of my mother’s wishes, I’m lunching with my new stepmother. She chose the restaurant, a chic café on a picturesque alley where the proprietor sets up tables on cobblestones worn smooth over the centuries by the feet of citizens, conquerors, pilgrims and penitents.
We’ve not met before and I’m surprised by her accessibility. Amazingly, she is a Shakespeare enthusiast; we discuss my doctoral dissertation on Edward de Vere as the Bard.
I arrived, resentful. I’ll leave with the friendship of a young woman who shares my interests as well as my age. I’ll deal with the family relationship later.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. November 15, 2013.)