Shortly after the death of Nora Quinn Larkin, in February 1974, two of her nine daughters felt bold enough to make long distance calls to Italy. At the Villa Schifanoia in Florence, a polite young lady answered the phone, and went to fetch the Dean of Art History. Later, comparing notes, the two sisters agreed as to how polite the young lady was, how vast the transoceanic silence seemed when they were put on hold, and how the cost didn't matter, not at a time like this. Soon Sister Martin de Porres was making plans to come home to Dubuque, for the first time in forty-two years.

Nora Eunice Gagliano, who had bravely continued working during her grandmother's decline, told everyone in the offices of B&B Books not to expect to meet their bestselling author--the Sinsinawa Dominicans had rigid rules, and Sister Martin, for all her achievements, had been given permission only to attend the funeral of her mother. But Father Bresnahan was eager to meet this nun whose scholarship was rumored to match his own, and whose book had outsold his last two. He still had connections in Rome, and he made a few phone calls.

At the wake, Sister Martin told her sisters and cousins and nieces that, after much prayer, she had decided take advantage of a new policy in her order. From now on, she said, she would be using her birth name: they could now call her "Sister Eunice Larkin." Nora Eunice Magliano was disappointed in the change, but everyone else seemed to like it--they all said it was so much easier to talk to Sister Eunice than to Sister Martin. After the burial, Sister Eunice returned to the Mother House in Sinsinawa, Wisconsin, a few miles from Dubuque, across the Mississippi.

That evening, the Mother Superior took Sister Eunice aside--after first calling her Sister Martin, and then apologizing with a smile that Sister Eunice considered rather unctuous--and gave her permission to visit her publisher the next day. At first, Sister Eunice had no idea what the Mother Superior was talking about. But apparently a priest named Father Bresnahan had arranged to send a car in the morning. And the Mother Superior seemed quite certain that she, Sister Eunice, had some sort of business relationship with "B&B Books" in Dubuque. Could this be the place where her niece had found a job? Concealing her puzzlement, Sister Eunice agreed to the arrangements, and asked a few discreet questions about this priest and his publishing house. The Mother Superior told her all the details, rattling off sales figures with evident pride. Sister Eunice listened carefully. This was the first she had heard of Father Niall Bresnahan, or B&B Books, or Marcellina's Bookshelf, or a best-seller called Warrior, Daughter, Saint: the Story of St. Matilda of Canossa, by Sister Martin de Porres.

The Mother Superior suspected nothing: Sister Eunice gave no hint of her astonishment or her suspicions. In fact, Sister Eunice seemed most grateful for the opportunity to make a visit to B&B Books.