Two cousins.
At about twelve-thirty I went looking for Hannah and found her sitting on the low stone wall at the edge of the terrace, alone, with the basket in her lap, practicing.
Not walking.
Just sitting, taking one petal at a time out of the basket and dropping it, then picking it up again.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“You nervous?”
She thought about it for a second.
She was always careful about answering that particular question honestly, which is a thing about her.
“A bit.”
I sat down on the wall.
“Can I tell you something that helps me?” I said.
“Before something big, I stop thinking about the whole thing and I pick one small job.
Just the one.
And I do that.”
“What’s my small job?”
“Getting to the end of the aisle.
That’s it.
