“He would spend hours locked in this room, talking to them and playing with them.”“Playing with them?” Maureen’s voice had been shocked. “...ow?”But her aunt had never answered the question, instead abruptly changing the conversation to the oils.Now Maureen stood in front of the statues and wondered.Her eyes flickered to Henry VIII. “Did my grandfather play with you, Henry,” she murmured out loud, then laughed at her foolishness. “Or you?” Her eyes went back to Anne Boleyn and the smile faded. Knowing Jim,she thought to herself, I’ll have to go at this alittle indirectly.Darlene arrived home, eagerly parked the car, grabbedher things and rushed into the house, bursting with thenews, only to find her husband Jim dozing in therecliner with the TV showing a lizard sellinginsurance. She checked at the living room entry, turnedaround and headed for the bedroom to change into lessformal attire. For some reason the bedroom was very warm even with theshades drawn, so she set her bible. More

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