The Unpainted Canvas
The notebook was smaller than Evelyn expected—bound in faded blue cloth, its spine held together with string that had once been white but was now the color of weak tea. She had been searching for Aunt Harriet's address book and found it instead, wedged between the back cover of a hymnal and the inside wall of the cedar chest where Harriet kept her things. Evelyn opened it on the hotel bed, the...
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