The Honey Thief
I first saw Miss Beatrice Duval do something unusual on a Tuesday night in July of 1954, and I knew then that she was more than just another member of a family that had been more than just another family in Oakridge for longer than any of us could remember. It was past midnight. The cicadas had begun their nightly chorus, which in August would become something close to a wall of sound, but in...
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