Like a boulder she rolled through the room, her hips bumping the furniture that Javier had made. An oak plank table and chairs filled the center, scarred by
boys as they wrestled and laughed. She missed that noise now. Two large chairs sat on either side of the stone fireplace. One was Yolanda's where she'd spent nights on the horsehair-stuffed cushion doing needlework or rocking babies to sleep. It bore the double bowls of her large rump and was uncomfortable to suit anyone else.
The other chair had been
Javier's.
