Vi had just finished giving them the final instructions when a disheveled Bonnie leaned on her shoulder. She directed a puff of air at the stray hairs falling over her face. “Now what?”
“Now, we pack.” The grifter turned the corner and darted up the stairs, the widow following close behind.
Once they were safely through the door of her apartment, her friend wheezed, “What? We’re running away?”
“Are you sure there isn’t any way I can talk you out of this?” Peter walked out of the wall and into the conversation.
“Not running away, my friend!” She waved the younger woman to follow her into the bedroom. The steamer trunk at the foot of the bed beckoned. The stray bit of clothes and papers were shoved aside and she threw it open. “For the first time in my life, I think I’m running toward something.”
Read from the beginning
Phoebe Darqueling 