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victory.
Not revenge.
Peace, maybe.
Or the beginning of it.
Aunt Carol came to stand beside me.
“You okay?”
I looked at the crowded table.
Daniel arguing with Raj about whether cranberry sauce counted as a condiment.
Elena telling Tasha’s twins not to run near the oven while secretly giving them extra rolls.
Rebecca slicing pie with courtroom precision.
Warm continue reading …
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