The little old woman in her lilac power suit grasps my arm with noduled fingers, smiling an impossibly sweet little smile.
"Do you know, you look like an awful lot like Grace Kelly? Martha, doesn't she look like young Grace?" she directs her trembling voice to her equally unsteady companion.
"Oh yes, yes, Gertrude! Oh, lovely!" Martha chirps, her sun spotted hand joining her friend's on my arm.