I watched Finley fish the mail out of the mail box. Her face shone with triumph as she leaned her body out of the car window and strained for the mailbox. She shimmied this way and that, until she finally drew back into the car with a grunt and exclaimed, “There.” She surveyed the stack and then passed her hand between my seat and the window to deliver the mail. My stomach dropped and my jaw clenched. Serendipity had just passed a [potent message by way of my youngest and, perhaps most impressionable daughter. Two catalogs side by side, between them they represented the things that taunted and tempted me as I grew up, and the things that most frighten me about raising three daughters.…