12

12

As we sat back for the first time in at least an hour, the ladies on their couch, I in my cushioned armchair, I’d left out nothing. No detail that I could readily recall, no impression, however fanciful it seemed. And not once had their suspension of disbelief seemed strained. Equipped with at least Dianna’s longstanding relationship with the paranormal, they’d apparently made the decision somewhere along the way to quit resisting what lay outside known bounds and to proceed as though the supernatural was as legitimate a player as anything that could be converted to formula. Which effectively rendered ‘suspension of disbelief’ an obsolete term unless proven otherwise, and somehow I didn’t see any of us reserving hope that the land-based and scientifically logical explanations would suddenly pop up out of the puzzle’s assembly. The sobe