Not too bad for thirty-eight, she surmised. Leaning closer to the mirror, she examined the reflection of her face. What few wrinkles she could see wer... hardly noticeable at all. Smiling, contentedly, she pushed back the stool and stood up.She always slept in the buff, even when it was freezing outside. She could trace this penchant back to her mother who always wore thick flannel gowns to bed. Not in the nineteen years she had lived with her parents could she ever remember seeing her mother. He ordered a Dry Martini and sat there slowly sipping as he reviewed the options and considered what decision he should make.Frank knew it was a difficult decision in many ways. Although he ruled out Helen because she was too young and could foresee too many problems spending so much time with her in many foreign countries, she was, nevertheless a sort of benchmark.So how did he rate the other three contenders, for that is how he saw them, even though he hadn't yet, and didn't know if he should. More

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