“Hello, Mr.
Beckett,” she said as their eyes met. They shook hands as she motioned him to
one of two flame-stitched side chairs.
“Ms.
Anson...” Gil uttered, taking a deep breath and trying to contain the amazement
at his yellow-page, finger-walking skills.
“You told
Shirley you were separated and that your wife left you,” Sophie said, turning
to a blank page in her note pad. “When did she leave you?”
Nothing had prepared Gil for telling the
story to a stranger, especially a beautiful one. “I guess you could say she’s
been leaving me since we met,” Gil said slowly, turning to look out the twelfth
floor window, “but she moved out last month."
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