With a speed and purpose that would have astonished a tornado chaser, Charlie's mother coastered her iced tea, deftly nudged Agnes back a step, and stepped toe to toe with Julia. She grabbed Julia's perfectly pressed collar, which folded like paper mache under her fists as the amazed audience edged their seats. "Julia Schindler, I've waited for 15 years for you to step out of line, and now you've officially outworn your welcome!" (Bret)
Demonstrating remarkable strength for so old a woman, Charlie's mother escorted Julia to the door. And with a courteous "Good day," Julia was propelled onto the sidewalk where she smoothed her clothing with indignation, cast a final scathing look backwards, and stormed away. Back in the living room, Charlie felt the drapes in his mind begin to pull back and let in a peculiar light. As if for the first time he saw Julia for who she was. Her receding footsteps dragged with them the shadows of a former life and relief brightened the room. And there was Agnes. His oldest friend. My lands, she made good pies.
The room seemed filled with bright colors. In collective suspense the guests held their breaths. Charlie had never felt shy around Agnes. Now with a strange awkwardness in his knees he turned to look at her. He held out his hand to her. Her diamond ring caught the light as she found his hand. The room filled with applause.