secrecy.
White tablecloths. Quiet room. Back corner booth. Beacon Hill. Half the people in there were pretending not to eavesdrop on the other half.
I was eight minutes early.
She was already there.
Navy suit. No nonsense. A legal pad in front of her instead of a menu. When I sat down, she didn’t do the fake sympathy face people use when they’re enjoying continue reading …
