Susan Steele has not received any gifts yet
“What’s your name?” asks the girl sitting across the picnic table from her.
With the table’s leg wobbling against her lap, she automatically answers, “Cynthia.”
“Good,” the girl nods, “Let’s proceed.”
Raising an eyebrow at the girl’s demeanor, its briskness more applicable to a business meeting than a so-called spiritual encounter, she quips, “And how do to propose we proceed.”