margin-right:0in">As she tried to touch the baby’s soft cheek, she felt a hand on her shoulder.  Yimmy turned around to see Hans standing behind her, all gowned and masked up, smiling at both his girls.

     “Well, well, so this is the girl who is going to raise my insurance rates when she learns how to drive in sixteen years,” Hans stared at the infant hooked to wires and needles.

     “This is her,” Yimmy told him.

     “I have her name,” Hans said.

     “What is it?”

     “Vivienne Marie.”

     “Oh, yes.  She looks like a Vivienne.  We can call her Vivvy.”

     &ld...

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