An online novel by Gillette Edmunds

“There was a banquet for Bill almost ten years ago in Cleveland,” Sonya said. “It was at a beautiful French restaurant. The walls were red velvet and the waiters all wore tuxedos. I flew in just for the evening and then flew back that night.”

“You’re wrong,” Charles started and then looked off at the hills and farm houses around them. “Well, ok, I don’t know what was in Cleveland ten years ago in the way of French restaurants. What does it matter?”

“I’m just making conversation,” Sonya replied. She walked to the passenger side of the yellow Citron, let herself in and sat down, staring out the window.

Staring at the chicken wire fence, he thought how ugly the French countryside was: Dusty and gray, not lush green; nothing like Hawaii where the last medical convention had been.