"Poor bitter Barbara. I pitied her for never having had a Fred in her life. She couldn't know what it was like to lie beside someone, scarcely breathing, touching their nose with your lips, covering the banquet before you, clothed in the reflections of a thousand stars… Yes, indeed… Fred was every sweet, romantic thing a rotten man could be." Mystery writer Esther Luttrell, a masterful storyteller, steps away from the mayhem of murder and into the chaos of love gone wrong. Amy at 37 is a fabulously told short-short story about a relationship that many women dream of having. It doesn't quite end the way our heroine wishes, but it is certainly, and incredibly, entertaining.