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The Duchess of CypressA couple of years ago in the month of February around my 80th birthday, I said to myself, Evelynn, it’s enough with the standing on your feet and just like that in the blink of an eye, I handed the keys to Evelynn’s Boutique over to my son Stephen and his wife Sue Ellen who had worked beside me in the business for thirty years.  You could say I’m on the back burner now and they’re managing just fine without me while I’m enjoying my retirement in Palm Beach, Florida.

I am not the type to sit around gathering rust.  I keep busy.  I belong to a book club in our building and I go to the Breakers Hotel for lunch.  Men still fancy me.  I date.  Why not, I’m not dead yet.  Most of my neighbours are pleasant and friendly.  The Toucher is not.

Lately, someone has been jiggling my door handle trying to get into my condo.  I suspect it’s the Toucher who lives on the fifth floor facing the pool.  She’s the one who stole my boyfriend and goes around touching people as she speaks.  Some people spit when they speak.  She touches.  Dollars to doughnuts, I’ll bet it’s her fiddling with my door handle.

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