'Ah, and here's the most elegant woman in the room!' Patricia said as Mrs. March approached, and Mrs. March beamed and turned to see whether anyone had heard. 'The usual, honey?'

'Yes, black olive bread and - well, yes,' she said. 'And this time I'd like two boxes of macarons, please? The big ones.'...

Mrs. March took out her pocketbook, still smiling dreamily at Patricia's compliment.

'I've been reading your husband's book,' said Patricia, temporarily out of sight as she crouched behind the counter. 'I bought it two days ago and I'm almost finished. Can't put it down. It's great! Truly great.'

Mrs. March moved closer, pressing against the glass case of assorted muffins and cheesecakes, in an effort to hear over the din. 'Oh,' she said, unprepared for this exchange. 'Well, that's nice to know. I'm sure George will think it's nice to know.'

'I was just saying to my sister last night, I know the writer's wife, and boy must she be proud.'

'Oh, well, yes, although he's written many books before -'

'But isn't this the first time he's based a character on you?'

Mrs. March, still fingering her pocketbook, experienced a sudden numbness. Her face hardened just as her insides seemed to liquify, so that she feared they might leak out ...

'I ...' said Mrs. March, struck by a sliver of pain in her chest. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean ... the main character.' Patricia smiled ...

'But the main character, it - isn't she ...' Mrs. March leaned in and in almost a whisper said, 'a whore?'