James Ensor Old Lady with Blue Shawl (1881) Stolen Moments Dorothy stroked the soft hand-crocheted shawl draped over the back of her mother’s rocking chair. Her mother had had it for as long as she could remember. Once a brilliant blue, it had faded with time. Elizabeth walked into the room with three tea cups and arranged them on the end stand. The china clinked, fragile and empty. Her eyebrows furrowed as she gazed at Dorothy. “The girl,” She waved toward the kitchen, “is making tea. Margaret, I think.” “Maggie.” “Ah yes, that’s right. I just can’t keep them straight these days.” She sat, hands folded primly in her lap. “Now then, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” Dorothy had learned a long time ago to go with her mother’s flights of fancy. She smiled. “It’s Dot.” “You’re a friend of my daughter? Where did she go?” “She’s out in the garden.” Maggie bustled into the room with a sil...