The first thing Sera noticed about Idris Vane was that he had read everything.He sat across from her at a corner table of the Orsini, the quiet, expensive restaurant on the hill where the city's money took its lunch, in a gray suit that fitted him like an opinion, with a glass of sparkling water at his elbow and his hands folded on the white cloth. He was fifty two, lean and silver at the temples, with a pleasant, attentive, unremarkable face and a voice that never rose. He had not touched the menu. He had, she realized, about four minutes into the conversation, memorized her."I admire the Meridian integration," said Vane. "Truly. Eleven hundred jobs preserved. A near flawless transition. It was the sort of decision one studies." He smiled. "It was also, if you will forgive me, extremely well told.""Told?""The story." He tilted his head. "A young woman, alone, with six hours and a telephone. A husband on a mountain. A family business held together by nerve. The garden wedding afte
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-10-07 Mehr lesen