Cartwright,” I answered. She practically rolled off the couch laughing. I tried to understand why she found that so funny, but I had to wait for wha... seemed like forever before she resumed the conversation. “No, Mrs. Cartwright,” she mimicked, before bursting out laughing once again. “What’s so funny?” I asked honestly. “When you get to my age, you’ll know,” she said, “When younger people think of you only as Mrs. This or Mr. That, it’s as though there’s a barrier between age groups. I’m not. Have you ever heard her sing? I mean really sing, not the school Christmas concert.”Margarete put the CD into the Bose Wave CD player on the make-up table and pressed play. Cal stood with her head cocked to one side for the slightly more than three minutes that the piece took to play through.“I may mess up the pronunciation,” she said.“That doesn’t matter, just sing it,” Jonas said.“Ready?” Margarete asked.Cal nodded, and Margerate pressed play, the conductor on the disk gave a three count then. More

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