From where she and Simon were standing, the sand was invisible. Probably someone like Helen knew exactly what each item had cost. Alex watched her take in the information of the dress, the purse from Simon. Still, Helen looked Alex up and down, lingering on each area of note. Who would be threatened by a Girl Scout? Deferential, scrubbed clean, this was the pose she had learned to take with older women. Helen turned to Alex.Īlex made herself cheerful, a Girl Scout cheer. “Simon,” Helen said, stepping toward him, opening her arms. Her dark eyes wobbled until they finally focused on Simon and Alex. How old was she? Alex couldn’t quite tell-her skin had been professionally blasted into the face of a bland 30-year-old. Her blond hair was pulled tight in a bun at her neck. She was all in black, a sleeveless dress with a kind of cape hanging down the back. The sun would set soon, the light already faltering. Beyond the patio was the spread of the ocean. The big room that led to the patio seemed partially filled with mist, a dampness from the fog that had breached the windows. “Onward and upward,” Simon said, his voice echoing strangely, the pug’s nails clicking along the marble.
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