She never heard George step up behind her naked body. Standing in front of the armoire mirror, she assessed herself. His eyes followed her. The same look of interest was there now, exactly like it had been forty years ago. Focusing back on her body, she saw her life’s road map etched there. Grey hair. Cesarean scar. Cellulite. And one hip slightly lower than the other, from the last hip replacement. “Alice, did you hear me? Do you want to?” Looking up at George, she searched his eyes and smiled. “I want to. Can we pretend it was the day...