Bree had thought long and hard about what words to use.

I called Bree last night, to see if she was coming tonight.

And if she had decided the other way, what might Bree's life have been like?

He didn't know enough about Bree's mother's situation to judge one way or the other.

It had been only a matter of time, Bree knew.

Bree looked from the box to his face and back.

It was the little boy he and Bree had made.

Leave a message for me here, if you pass through Bree.

Bree tried to find a reason why she shouldn't do this.

Bree knew she was right, which didn't help things much.

He'd never seen Bree so much as speak to the man, though.

He might have been Bree's brother, was my first thought.

They married after Bree asked him if he had killed his first wife.

Bree followed him into the family room and watched while he started a fire.

Some of the same sort had been seen in Bree two days before and wild stories were going about.

This was at Bree, and in the country round about.

Like the outside of the house, they didn't fit Bree.

But all that was nothing compared to what had happened to Bree.

Bree nodded to each of them, looking at the girl with particular interest.

They were the last gifts he would ever get from Bree.

I glanced at Bree, who was sitting next to me.

It's the same thing, so far as Bree is concerned.

Bree started to point to the board, then caught the woman's expression.

That didn't apply to Bree, who had never really been a child at all.

Bree had seen me around town for three years before she wished to see her mother.