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She was the kind who could keep a cat and a canary in the same room.” Andrea loved to cook, too.
For weeks after the funeral Priscilla would open the hotel-size refrigerator and discover small concoctions that Andrea had stored. Stan was in his grave: Stan Farr, “the Bear,” the gentle giant, the former TCU basketball player and lovable hardlucker. Bubba Gavrel, a 21-year-old boyfriend of Dee’s friend Bev Bass, was still partially paralyzed from his gunshot wound.
defeat, get the better of, overcome - win a victory over; "You must overcome all difficulties"; "defeat your enemies"; "He overcame his shyness"; "He overcame his infirmity"; "Her anger got the better of her and she blew up"irritate, annoy, anger, madden, get (informal), bug (informal), aggravate (informal), gall, exasperate, nettle, vex, irk, rile, peeve, get under someone's skin (informal), get someone's back up, piss someone off (taboo slang), put someone's back up, nark (Brit., Austral., & N. slang), get someone's goat (slang), make someone's blood boil, get someone's dander up (informal)It's not the first time my Dr Google diagnosis has been wrong - although at least this time I didn't start booking the funeral home - but it turned out Jesse had impetigo, probably caused by over-zealous or injury as result of a fall or fight * Upper respiratory tract infections, or infections in the nose or sinuses * Temperature changes - going from the bitter cold to being warm indoors * Haematological disorders like blood clotting can promote or prolong nosebleeds * Regular consumption of drugs such as aspirin and anticoagulants * In very serious cases some cancers can cause nosebleeds * Illegal drug abuse like the use of cocaine * Hypertension (high blood pressure) WHAT COMMON HEALTH PROBLEMS ARE ASSOCIATED WITH GETTING ONE?
it had come to be called, though mansion didn’t do justice to the eye-popping million sprawl of trapezoids and parallelograms and oddly sloping white walls that multimillionaire Cullen Davis had built to immortalize his marriage to Priscilla eight years ago.
There was always an armed guard downstairs, and the panel of lights on the bedroom wall told her that all locks were secure.
Without moving from the bed she could adjust the three TV screens or talk to the security men or close the magnificent drapes to blot out the view of the downtown skyline. Rich little poor girl, a prisoner in her own castle.
There was a carton of Eves on the nightstand, laminated photographs of Stan and her children, and dainty little signs, such as the one that said: “Love is being able to let go.” Life had been reduced to a single ritual: every evening as the sun was going down, Priscilla walked through the mansion closing all the machine-operated drapes. Friends marveled at her tenacity; how could she stay there in that museumlike chill surrounded by art treasures and pursued by the ghosts of that incredible night in August? After all that had happened, the price she had paid, Priscilla was not about to walk away now.
She heard a scream and more gun shots, but she kept running.
She banged on a door, screaming, “My name is Priscilla Davis. He is killing everyone…” Rattling around in her million mansion, Priscilla thanked God Thanksgiving had passed and prayed now to get through Christmas.Priscilla’s son from her second marriage, Jackie Wilborn, had come to the mansion for the holidays. Jackie was only fifteen and had never lived under Cullen Davis’ roof; it was difficult for him to understand why a woman like Priscilla, with her natural flash, zest, and taste for the exotic, had not stayed with his father Jack, a man old enough to be her own father.