Mary Cunningham, Author

Cynthia had an attic.  Not just an ordinary attic.  Cynthia’s attic was magic.

Cynthia and I came into the world just three months apart.  We grew up on the same quiet, sycamore-lined street, our friendship as close as our houses.  Fifty years earlier, our grandmothers were best friends.  However, we didn’t realize the extent of their friendship until after our experience in Cynthia’s attic.  This is the story of one of our great adventures…the way I remember it.