It came in shiny wrapping paper, tied up with satin ribbon, upon what must have been the Slow Boat via China. HUZZAH. Thanks Susanna, Judy.
This book is given,
along with all my heart,
to Michael
Opening:
Miss Jane Neal met her maker in the early morning mist of Thanksgiving Sunday. It was pretty much a surprise all round. Miss Neal's was not a natural death unless you're of the belief everything happens as it's supposed to. If so, for her seventy-six years Jane Neal had been walking toward this final moment when death met her in the brilliant maple woods on the verge of the village of Three Pines. She'd fallen spread-eagled, as though making angels in the bright and brittle leaves.
That's a hook, right there, and the proof is where I marked this up ready to read at some point in the future, I just kept on reading.
There are some lovely lines in here, take this from page 18:
'I have a whole lot of hollyhock babies,' said Jane, fitting in a piece of the sky. 'How did those single yellows do for you? I didn't notice them.'
'I put them in last fall, but they never called me mother.'Great read, thoroughly enjoyed it. Does the film match up?



