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Vineyards, maids collecting eggs, and fishing boats out at sea -- these familiar scenes passed under her eyes step by step. As she climbed, her hands slid over the polished mahogany handrail. Two rails ran like long, brown snakes down either side of the stairs. She didn't need the rail for support but she liked how the polished wood felt sliding through her palm.
Olivia reached the third floor and passed the chairlift that had been installed a few years ago.
Esther had valiantly fought for independence against the disease that threatened to rob her of it. The installation of the chairlift had been but one attempt to assist her mobility. It now rested unused at the head of the stairs.
Olivia reached her grandmother's bedroom and overheard Esther talking with Katherine.
"Your father loved you so very much. He wanted so badly to watch you grow -- to be there for you."
"I know, Mother. It's okay. You kept him alive for me. He was a red-haired, green-eyed war hero. I never met him but through your stories I feel I know him. Through your stories I grew to love him."
"You should love him. He was a fine man. But the things I told you. The stories I told you...they weren't exactly...they weren't..."
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