Loe raamatut: «Love and the Single Mum»
“Margo? Are you still there?”
“Yes.” Barely.
“Catherine and I were hoping you’d come to the reception. We feel it’s important for the children that they see this wedding has your support.”
Did he know what he was asking? Margo rubbed her forehead. Forget the children being overwhelmed. What about her?
It was dizzying how fast her life had changed. She’d gone from being a married woman and practicing lawyer to a single mother with a business of her own. She’d adjusted—but was she ready to watch her ex-husband marry another woman?
And yet, she knew Tom had a point. For their kids’ sake, she had to do this. “Give me the restaurant name and time and I’ll be there.”
Slipping the phone back into her apron, she leaned into her chair.
This was so unreal.
In the year they’d been living apart, Tom had had his affair with Janna, and now he was marrying someone named Catherine whom she had never met.
Her ex had been busy.
And in all that time, she hadn’t gone on a single date.
Dear Reader,
When hearts break, dreams die and a marriage ends, sometimes the idea of loving again feels like an impossible fantasy. Especially when kids are in the picture.
Dating is challenging enough without adding the complication of children to the mix. Single parents are busy people. Working, raising kids and running a household all on your own leaves precious little time for dating. And yet, given the contemporary divorce rate, this is the reality many of us face.
I’d like to welcome you to a new series about women (and men) who find themselves in this exact situation. In Love and the Single Mom you’ll meet Margo Evans. Once Margo was full of hopes for her future. She studied law, became a lawyer, married a smart man and had two beautiful children. She thought she was living her dream—until her marriage fell apart.
Suddenly single, Margo reassesses her goals and decides to open a bistro. With two children and a new business to worry about, she definitely doesn’t have time for dating. Or so she thinks…
I hope you enjoy this story, as well as the other books in SINGLES…WITH KIDS. If you would like to write or send e-mail, I would be delighted to hear from you through my Web site at www.cjcarmichael.com. Or send mail to the following Canadian address: #1754-246 Stewart Green, S.W., Calgary, Alberta, T3H 3C8, Canada.
Happy reading!
C.J. Carmichael
Love and the Single Mum
C.J. Carmichael
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, C.J. Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written over twenty novels for Harlequin Books and strongly suggests you look elsewhere for financial planning advice.
To my good friends Ann and Dave Mallory.
Wishing you health, happiness and bonne chance.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER ONE
Thursday’s Soup of the Day:
Squashed Pear
THERE WAS THAT MAN AGAIN. As Margo Evans accepted change from a customer, her attention lingered on the guy who’d just entered her bistro. He was in his mid-thirties, dressed in a business suit. Just as he had yesterday, he claimed a table in the back near the kitchen even though several seats by the windows were available. Immediately he pulled out a newspaper and notepad from his briefcase, and before he’d even ordered anything to eat, his BlackBerry started to ring.
It was two-thirty in the afternoon. A slow time between lunch and rush hour. They had only one other customer, a woman in her forties who was reading a novel as she sipped her coffee. Still…the guy had his nerve.
Gritting her teeth, Margo pulled out the sign her daughter, Ellie, had made for her last night: No Cell Phones Please. Ellie must have used every marker in the sixteen-color pack. It was a terrific sign. Margo taped it so that it hung down from the counter facing the guy in the suit.
But he was hunched over his BlackBerry and didn’t notice.
How annoying. She didn’t mind if her patrons took the occasional call, but if he planned to stay several hours, as he had yesterday, she was going to have to make him aware of the rules.
She went around the counter and slipped next to Emma Greenfield. Em’s kids were in high school now and she worked Monday to Friday, eight hours a day. “Do we have a zucchini chocolate cake in reserve?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Nora’s stopping by for coffee later, and that’s one of her favorites.” Nora Clark was a new friend Margo had made a few months ago. One of the perks of owning a bistro was that she was always making new friends. But Nora was special. Like Margo, she was a single mom, too, and they always had lots to talk about.
“We’ve got the cake,” Em assured her. “But we’re running low on the soup.”
Margo peered into the cauldron and saw that Em was right. They were down to the dregs, and if yesterday was anything to judge by, the guy in the suit was going to order several bowls of the stuff.
“Those soups of yours are the most popular item on the menu,” Em said, as she wiped down the espresso machine. The beautiful red La Marzocco had been costly—even more than Margo’s beloved Garland stove in the back—and Em treated it with the same attention that a car lover would bestow on a vintage automobile.
“Yes, the soup always sells out, doesn’t it?” In fact, business was generally brisk and the feedback on the food was excellent. So why wasn’t she making any money?
Margo couldn’t figure it out. Lots of people had warned her about the work and the risks involved in starting a new business—particularly a restaurant, where hours were long and competition tight. Among those who had been the most cautious were the loans manager at the bank, her ex-husband Tom and her former associates at the law firm. She’d known they were right, but she hadn’t appreciated just how right they would turn out to be.
Margo pulled the stainless steel soup container from its slot and headed for the kitchen. As she passed the guy in the suit, their eyes connected briefly.
Had they met before? Several times yesterday she’d had the feeling that they had. For a moment it seemed as if he was going to say something to her, but then his BlackBerry beeped and he turned his attention back to that.
He looked like a typical businessman in his mid-thirties. The kind of customer she saw many times every day. He was conservative and clean-cut and totally boring….
Except for his eyes. His smile was kind of cute, too.
With her hip Margo pushed open the door to the narrow kitchen. Centered on the back wall was the stainless steel Garland. She stirred the pot of thick, fragrant squash and pear soup that simmered on the back burner, then refilled the cauldron and lugged it back to the serving area out front.
One of her regular customers was just walking in. Margo stopped to chat with the older gentleman for a while and she smiled when he told her that his afternoon coffee was the highlight of his day.
“I always feel happy when I’m here,” Oscar said in a whisper, as if it was something to feel ashamed of.
“So do I,” Margo whispered back.
And she was. Her bistro was everything she’d ever dreamed it would be—except profitable. Margo had expected to lose money the first few months, but with a year of operation behind her she was getting desperate to creep out of the red.
The guy in the suit appeared at the counter as soon as she had the soup in place. He caught her eye. “Smells wonderful. I’ll have a bowlful of that, plus another of those scones.”
As she took his money, the recognition thing bugged her again. “Have we—?”
But before she could complete her question, his phone rang. He was wearing small earphones, so he was able to talk to whomever was on the line and carry his food back to his table all at the same time.
“That guy is starting to get on my nerves,” Em commented quietly.
“Maybe I should take Ellie’s sign and flash it in his face.”
Em laughed. “Yeah. You do that.”
“I’m serious.” She started to lift the tape that was holding the sign to the counter, only to hear the sound of ringing yet again. It wasn’t Suit Guy’s BlackBerry this time—she was embarrassed to realize it was her own cell phone.
Em’s hair was turning gray, but her eyebrows were still coal-black. She raised them now and Margo apologized.
“It might be an emergency. I’ll just be a sec.” She withdrew to the kitchen where she pulled her phone from the pocket of her white apron. Only the kids’ school and Tom had this number and they knew better than to use it casually.
Had one of the kids taken ill? Been injured on the playground? With a feeling of dread, Margo said hello.
“Margo?”
Not hearing the school secretary on the other end was a plus. But the familiar voice of her ex-husband didn’t exactly fill her with joy. “Hi, Tom.”
“Sorry to bother you at the bistro. But I needed to talk to you when the kids wouldn’t be around.”
Margo sank into a chair. This didn’t sound like it was leading up to something good. “What’s wrong?”
The final paperwork on the divorce had been signed last week. Everything had been running so smoothly lately that she hadn’t expected to hear from Tom again in a long while.
“I’ve got some news. And I was wondering about the best way to tell Ellie and Peter.”
This sounded big. Margo always wore her hair up at work, but she found a stray wisp and coiled it around her finger. “What is it?” Had he been transferred? Was he planning to move? Oh, God, give her strength if that was the case.
“I’m getting married.”
“Wha—?” Margo’s brain stalled. How could he be getting married? The ditzy paralegal he’d had his affair with had left their law firm in disgrace shortly after Margo’s resignation. Ironically it was only Tom’s career that had survived that scandal. “I didn’t know you were still seeing Janna.”
“I’m not. My fiancée’s name is Catherine. She works part-time as a receptionist at Henry’s firm.”
Henry Kovatch was Tom’s best friend. And supposedly one of hers, too. The three of them had been inseparable in law school. “Did Henry set you up?”
“Well…yes.”
Hmm. Why hadn’t Henry set her up with someone? Then again, the only people Henry knew were lawyers and people who worked with lawyers. And she definitely didn’t want to get involved with another one of them.
“Catherine and I have been dating for about four months.”
“That’s all? And you want to get married?”
“I know it seems impulsive—”
“Seems?” Tom was the least impulsive person she’d ever known. On the other hand, he liked having a woman around to take care of him, which was one of the reasons their marriage had failed. Margo had expected to be an equal partner sort of wife. Not a mother fill-in. “This Catherine must be something else.”
“She’s wonderful. As soon as I met her I knew she was the one.”
Margo closed her eyes. Tom had once said that about her. Did he remember?
He’d told her she was the prettiest, most amazing woman in the world and that nothing would make him happier than spending the rest of his life with her.
Apparently he’d meant his life or ten years, whichever came first.
Damn, she never had been one to read the fine print. Good thing she’d left the law. Like her marriage to Tom it was one of those things she’d thought she’d wanted, only to be disillusioned with the reality.
“Well…” Spit it out, Margo. “Congratulations. Have the kids met her?”
“Sure. They get along great.”
Funny. Neither Ellie nor Peter had ever mentioned Catherine to her. Then again, neither had they mentioned anything about the new silver Audi roadster that Margo had seen in the garage the last time she’d dropped them off at Tom’s for the weekend.
“Catherine loves them, too. This is going to work out really well, Margo. I have no doubt about that.”
God help them all if he was wrong. “So when is this wedding taking place?”
“That’s the thing. See, we’d been planning a big church wedding, then last week we got the idea to do something simple and easy at city hall.”
“Okay… But when?”
“That’s what I needed to talk to you about. I know this is your weekend to have the kids, but I was hoping—”
“This weekend? You’re getting married this weekend?”
“Would you calm down, Margo. Yes, I’m getting married this weekend. And I’d like the kids to be there.”
In ten years of marriage, he’d never surprised her so much.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll pick Ellie and Peter up after school on Friday—”
“That’s tomorrow.” Did Ellie’s pink dress shoes still fit her? Well, they’d have to. He’d left them no time to go shopping. “Do they know that you and Catherine are getting married?”
“Well, Catherine has practically been living with me the last few weeks, so I don’t think they’ll be too surprised.”
“Tom—”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. Like I said, they like Catherine.”
This was all so very not fine that Margo didn’t have a clue where to start. The kids were going to be overwhelmed. A new stepmother, at the drop of a hat. How could Tom sound so cavalier about something that was going to totally change all of their lives?
Including hers.
Adjusting to a separate life from the father of her children was one thing. Having another woman in her children’s lives was something else. Margo had known this would happen one day. She hadn’t expected the day to arrive so soon, though.
“Margo? Are you still there?”
“Yes.” Barely.
“Catherine and I were hoping you’d come to the reception, after city hall. We’re having a few people to that new rooftop restaurant at Embarcadero Center and we feel it’s important for the children that they see this wedding has your support.”
Good God. Did he know what he was asking? Margo rubbed her forehead. Forget the children being overwhelmed. What about her?
It was dizzying how fast her life had changed this year. She’d gone from being a married woman and practicing lawyer, to a single mother with a business of her own. She’d adjusted marvelously—at least she felt she had—but was she ready to watch her ex-husband marry another woman?
And yet, she knew Tom had a point. For their kids’ sake, she had to do this. “Give me the restaurant name and time and I’ll be there.”
Margo jotted down Tom’s instructions, then wished him the best and disconnected the call. Slipping the phone back into her apron, she leaned into her chair and just sat.
This was so unreal.
In the year they’d been living apart, Tom had had his affair with Janna and now he was marrying someone named Catherine whom she had never met.
Her ex had been busy.
And in all that time, she hadn’t gone on a single date.
CHAPTER TWO
Days Unemployed: 4
“DID YOU GET MY RÉSUMÉ? I faxed it to your office yesterday.” As Robert Brookman spoke into his BlackBerry, he kept his eyes on the pretty blonde behind the counter.
He’d heard the older woman who served the coffee, and several of the other customers, refer to her as Margo. Which meant she must be the bistro owner.
Shifting his gaze to the notebook in front of him, he focused his attention back on his call.
“Great. Well, let me know as soon as you hear something.” He said goodbye to his headhunter, then frowned. Finding a new job was going to take some time, he knew. He just wished Donald Macleod was a little more bullish about the job market in San Francisco right now.
He checked out the blonde again.
Margo. He liked the sound of the name. Just as he liked the woman it belonged to. She greeted all her customers as if she was glad to see them. And he didn’t think it was an act. She was just one of those naturally warm, sincere sort of people who enjoyed the company of others.
She was also a terrific cook.
He forced his gaze to the career section of the San Francisco Chronicle. He circled a few possibilities, then sent an e-mail to Donald. What Donald didn’t understand was that Robert hadn’t been unemployed since he’d graduated from college over ten years ago.
Though he’d lost his job through no fault of his own, and had received a nice compensation package in exchange, Robert didn’t like the feeling of being out of work. He needed to get back behind a desk as soon as possible.
Robert finished his cup of coffee and considered requesting a refill. But at that moment, Margo disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later she reemerged, without her apron, and left the restaurant with a wave and a smile to the older woman behind the counter.
He checked the time. It was quarter past three. She’d left the bistro at this time yesterday, too. He sighed, then snapped shut his briefcase and pocketed the BlackBerry.
Tomorrow he’d just have to get here earlier.
It had been eight months since his breakup with Belinda and he was ready to move on. He’d tried dating a few women he’d met through work, but none of them had inspired much interest. Margo was the first to really capture his attention…and she didn’t wear a wedding ring, so she seemed like a good candidate.
The only thing holding him back was the niggling feeling that he’d met her before. He wished he could recall where and when. Might save him some potential embarrassment when he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out.
USUALLY MARGO looked forward to seeing her children at the end of their day. Not today.
How unfair of Tom to leave the telling of his news to her. She was very afraid that the kids were going to be badly shocked. She could imagine Ellie stalking off in anger and Peter crying uncontrollably, the way he had when his father had first moved out of the family home.
Tell Daddy not to go.
He’d fallen to the floor with his sobs and Margo had picked him up. Hugged him and soothed him. Fortunately, with counseling, her children had recovered from that rough patch. But it was still a time Margo couldn’t bear to think back on.
It was amazing to her that Tom was serious about marrying someone she had never even heard the kids mention. Though, to be fair, the kids didn’t talk much to her about what they did when they were at Tom’s house. It was as if Ellie and Peter lived in two separate worlds, with no points of intersection between them.
Did other children of divorced parents act that way? Margo wished she had someone to ask. But the only single mom she knew—Nora—was widowed, not divorced.
Margo stopped on the corner next to the playground. Several other parents and caregivers were congregated here and she smiled at the father of one of her daughter’s friends.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Can’t beat spring time in San Francisco.” Allan White was a stay-at-home dad. His wife happened to also be a lawyer. “Did Ellie get her book report done on time? Stephanie and I were up until eleven last night.”
“Oh?” Ellie was such a responsible student that Margo rarely asked her about her homework. She was about to question Allan more about the project, when the school buzzer sounded. Soon kids were streaming out the doors, and Peter was one of the first.
A towhead like she had been at his age, he wasn’t as keen on his studies as his sister. He spotted her, grinned, then ran in her direction.
After a big hello hug, he asked if he could play while they waited for Ellie.
“Sure, honey.” Margo watched as he raced toward the monkey bars, then swung his way toward his favorite slide. Ellie didn’t show up for another ten minutes. As a fifth grade student, she felt she was too old to be walking home from school with her mother and baby brother. Privately Margo sympathized with her, but Tom was nervous about the South of Market neighborhood and so she continued to accompany the kids.
“Did you hand in your book report?” Margo asked her daughter when she finally showed up.
Ellie gave her a withering look that reminded Margo painfully of Tom. “Of course.” Ellie took a brisk pace toward home, and Margo had to hustle Peter to follow her.
“Please slow down a little, Ellie. Your brother’s legs aren’t as long as yours.”
Ellie said nothing to that, but she did reduce her speed marginally.
“So…” Margo still hadn’t come up with a great way to tell them their father’s news. Feeling awkward, she said, “I guess you guys know that your father has found someone that he really cares about.”
Peter looked at her blankly.
“She means Catherine,” Ellie explained over her shoulder.
“That’s right. Catherine. Your father says you’ve had a chance to get to know her?”
Ellie shrugged. “Sort of.”
“Well. Is she nice?”
“Sure,” Peter said.
“She’s okay.”
“I’m glad you both like her.”
Ellie stopped walking and eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”
Margo swallowed, but her mouth remained dry. “Your dad called me today and wanted me to tell you something.”
Spit it out, Margo.
“Your father and Catherine have decided to get married.” Margo swallowed again. “This weekend.”
She waited for the fallout, but nothing happened.
“Cool,” Ellie said, then resumed walking.
“Cool,” Peter echoed, his eyes on his sister, as if he needed to gauge her reaction in order to determine his own.
“So you’re okay with this?” Margo asked her daughter.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Indeed. “Good.”
That had been so much easier than she’d expected. And yet Margo didn’t feel entirely satisfied with the children’s reactions. Could it be she didn’t want Catherine to be a nice person? That she would have been happier to have her children kick up a fuss?
Bitterness curdled on her tongue and she had the urge to lash out. To say something shallow and mean-spirited about Tom and the speed with which he’d replaced her. To disparage a woman she’d never even met.
Why…I’m jealous.
Margo was disappointed in herself, but she couldn’t deny her own feelings. The truth was, she felt a little usurped by Catherine and she would have preferred it if her kids had said something even just a little negative about her.
Ellie and Peter were hers. She’d given birth to them and raised them and loved them. Just because Tom wanted another woman in his life didn’t mean she and the kids did.
Only…maybe her kids did want Catherine in their lives. They hadn’t given any sign that they didn’t.
By the time they reached the bistro, Margo felt close to tears. She watched her kids scoot up onto stools where Em had milk and cookies waiting. They attacked the snack like starving creatures. Lately it seemed Ellie couldn’t get her hands on enough food, while her younger brother was always thirsty.
They were so cute. Peter with his missing front teeth and mischievous blue eyes. Ellie, so serious and grown-up acting, the way she’d always been, even as a baby.
Margo hated that their innocence was being marred by this divorce. Their father moving out had only been the beginning of the hurdles they would face, she now realized. Next would be the new stepmother. And possibly halfsiblings sometime down the road.
Feeling her anger toward Tom mounting, Margo made an excuse to go to the kitchen. The table at the back was now occupied by two young men in leather jackets and artfully disheveled hair. She wondered if she’d seen the last of Suit Guy and was surprised to realize she felt a bit disappointed at the idea.
In the kitchen she allowed herself to slam the copper pots around a little. Life was so unfair at times. She hated being divorced. Learning to share her time with the kids had been difficult enough. Now she had to stand on the sidelines as Tom moved on and married again.
The kitchen door swung open, and Em breezed into the room. She pulled her apron over her head, then shoved it into the dirty laundry basket. “Sandy just showed up, so I’m off.”
Margo knew “off” was a relative term. Em would be going home to prepare dinner for her husband and starving teenagers. Then she’d spend her evening either watching her son play basketball, or driving her daughter to dance lessons.
“We have some leftover muffins from the morning. Want to take them for the kids’ lunches tomorrow?” Margo bagged them as she made the offer and Em accepted the package gratefully. A moment later Sandy—a college student with shoulder-length brown hair and serious, wide-set green eyes—popped in to grab an apron.
“It’s quiet out there, thank goodness.”
Margo could guess what she meant by that. “Edward hasn’t shown up yet?”
“Second time this week.” Sandy shook her head, slipped on the apron, then hurried back to the front.
Margo was glad she had Sandy to rely upon. Two months ago, Edward had seemed like a good hire. At first impression, he’d been good-natured, motivated and pleasant. But the day after she’d given him the job, he’d come to work with rings in his lip and eyebrow, as well as a stud through his tongue. Margo had nothing against self-expression, but it had seemed slightly deceitful to her that he had hidden his piercings for the job interview.
Lately, he’d been arriving late for work and shirking cleanup duties at the end of his shift. Today, when he finally arrived and came to the back to get an apron, he avoided eye contact with her.
“Hi, Edward. How are things?”
“Fine.” He still didn’t look at her.
“You’ve been running behind quite a bit lately. Is anything wrong?”
He shook his head, eyes still averted.
Margo sighed. “Are you sure there isn’t a problem?”
“No. Everything’s good.”
Margo tilted her head to one side. If there was one thing she was sure about, it was this. Everything was not good. Not with Edward, not with the bistro and not with her life.
But how to begin tackling the problems, she had no idea.
A MESSAGE WAS WAITING for Robert on his machine when he got home from the gym. He dumped his sports bag near the closet, then hit the playback button, hoping the call would be from his headhunter. But the recorded voice was about thirty years too young for that.
“Hey, Robert, it’s Andrew. Maybe you didn’t get my other message, but I was wondering if you could come to my birthday party tomorrow? It’s at six o’clock and Mom’s making a chocolate cake. Well, she’ll probably buy it, but it’ll be chocolate for sure. Um…see you then. Bye.”
Robert stared at the machine for several seconds, before erasing the message. Feeling like the biggest jerk on the planet, he hit the shower, trying not to remember Andrew’s last birthday party.
He’d bought the boy a fishing pole and foolishly he’d made a bunch of promises, never dreaming that he might not be able to deliver on them. Even now he didn’t know who’d been more excited about those pie-in-the-sky plans—him or Andrew.
Robert shut off the water, dried quickly then contemplated the remaining hours of the evening. He hadn’t eaten, and after his workout, he was starving. There were some frozen entrées on hand, or he could call for take-out, but he found himself craving…soup.
The squashed pear soup at Margo’s today had been delicious. Even better than the sunshine carrot from the day before.
As he made up his mind to go, Robert knew it wasn’t just the food he was after. Sure it was good and the atmosphere at the bistro was warm and welcoming, but there was something more compelling pulling at him: the friendly woman who owned the place.
As he passed by the phone on his way out, he tried not to think of the boy who’d left him that message. He knew Andrew would be home, waiting and hoping, and his heart ached to think of that.
But what could he do? Belinda had said no contact, and she was the boy’s mom.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Robert stepped inside Margo’s Bistro. The place was small, holding ten tables, max, not counting the annex through an archway to his left. The colors of the decor were vivid, but the tones blended harmoniously—sort of like the flavors in Margo’s soups.
Robert checked behind the counter. The older brunette he’d seen on his previous two visits wasn’t on duty now. Instead, two college-aged kids were at work. The girl seemed to be hustling her buns off. The guy acted as if he was annoyed about something.
Robert scanned the rest of the room, disappointed when he didn’t spot Margo. He’d taken a chance, hoping she might have returned for the evening, but it hadn’t paid off.
Since he was here anyway, he lined up to place his order. Reflectively, he dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He touched a piece of cardboard and pulled out one of his old business cards.
Robert Brookman, MBA, Senior Account Manager, Wells Fargo.
Hard to believe that only last week this had been him. He’d been someone important, an employee at one of San Francisco’s oldest and most prestigious banks. He’d been on his way up, a man bound for success.
He’d had an office and colleagues, a desk and a mound of work waiting for him at the start of every day. He’d taken pleasure in tackling and conquering those files before the closing of every night….
Robert Brookman, MBA, Senior Account Manager. That was who he was. Or who he had been. A busy, important person whose every minute of every day was spoken for.
Now he had the disorienting notion that if he suddenly disappeared, if someone walked into this bistro right now with a gun and forced him out into a waiting car, no one would notice. He could be gone a week, a month, hell even longer, and not a person would raise an alarm.
Tasuta katkend on lõppenud.
