The Oldest Virgin In Oakdale. Wendy Warren
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and looked into Cole’s impossibly warm and attentive eyes. Pressure built in her chest and throat. Forcing herself to continue, she spoke with as much control as she could muster. “Sister Marguerite has passed on, and that must mean—” her voice caught as the tears began again “—that must mean…”
“Go on, Teach, let it out. What does it mean?”
Eleanor’s chin quivered. Her brow began to pucker.
“If Sister Marguerite is dead, that must mean that I…that I’m—” It took three tries before the next sentence emerged, but then it burst forth like an uncorked geyser: “I’m the oldest living virgin in Oakdale!”
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