"I edit an online magazine for the environmental community."

"Oh - I'm a writer too. I thought everyone here was an artist."

"Not me." She laughed. "My former boyfriend is, but not me."

She opened her black leather backpack and pulled out a faded manilla envelope. "I have a picture which my mother sent me when she heard I was coming. She was invited, but she hasn't been feeling very well."

Inside the envelope was a black and white photograph taken at Dorothy's first wedding.
It showed a reception line -- on the lawn that sloped down to the river and was bordered with formal flower gardens.

I recognized Dorothy and the groom, her first husband, Luke McCrae. "He was really handsome," I said.

"That's my Mom." The woman beside me pointed to a tall woman with blond hair, permed shoulder length, as was the fashion then.

I looked intently at the photo.

"Why I think that's my grandmother," I exclaimed. She was standing in a group of people in the background.