From the Inside Flap
"Jean, do they know about my, my-" now it was my turn to
hesitate. I could not bring myself to say the words, do they know I am dying?
"Yes, they know you're ill. It's all right, Claudia." She looked up at me again, her eyes brimming. "Please, do this for me. It's all right."
And so it was that a little over two hours later, I found myself on a train headed east on the bridge over Lake Washington, away from my dearest friend, who had stuffed an assortment of tickets into my pocketbook and told the conductor to watch over me. She'd hugged me one last time and made me promise once again that I would use them all and follow her instructions to the letter.
I had promised I would. Heaven help me.