This is one of Elizabeth Corbett's early-to-bed-time stories -- the same one she's been telling all these years -- about Charlotte Emerson and how she grew up to marry Bill Andrews in a small town in the Middle West. 'Blessedly' there's a precious 'marvel' to come and a second 'miracle' and a third 'bonus' and they all mature and then Mama dies, and Bill dies, and Charlotte goes to New York to start a whole new life not quite of her own. . . . If it's circular and clean and white and sort of fragrant, what is it? A mothball.