on Mexican tile and glass block room dividers and yes, a place for pinball machines. Her input was no longer needed. Not wanting to get in the way, EvaMarie wandered back the other way to the one room on the other side of the stairway. A large open entryway framed the room beyond like a picture.
The long-mirrored wall reflected the ballet bar attached at a child’s level. She could also see her elaborate doll house closed up in the corner. The few stuffed animals she’d kept were resting safely in the wooden toy chest. This had been her own space when she was a little girl—a safe haven from her father’s unreasonably high expectations and her mother’s silent pressure to conform.
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