August 16th, 1975

The telephone woke me early this morning. Richard had left for the new salon quietly and let me sleep. It was Marcie calling for directions to Rehobeth. Her parents are here on vacation. I told Marcie that I wasn’t entirely sure, but I would call friends and find out. So I called Lynn. I felt sure I must have woke her up. Her voice was low, clipped, stern. I asked her if anything was wrong. Her mother died this morning. She had come to stay with Lynn for a while on Tuesday and seemed not to be feeling quite well. Everyone thought she merely had a virus of sorts.