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on her hip, laundry churning in the background. “Get a lawyer, Miri. Don’t just let her bulldoze you. Joel would haunt you if you did.”
Her name was L.R.A. Schmidt. Everyone called her Ell-are-ay like it was a given name. She was in her mid-fifties, silver-streaked dark hair, and she had the particular stillness of someone who has seen enough continue reading …
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