11
We had just begun to brainstorm our next steps, inspired by Mika’s mini-speech, when her phone rang. “It’s Mrs. Stephenson,” she said.
As Mika stepped outside to take the call, Santiago looked at me and asked, “Don’t you all know that woman’s first name. Why do you all talk to her so formally?” He smiled.
“Old-fashioned, I guess. But yes, her first name is Lizzie. She hasn’t corrected us yet when we call her Mrs. Stephenson, so I assume she prefers it.”
Santiago rolled his eyes. “The Southern ways die hard, don’t they?”
“Yes, sir, they do,” I said with an emphasis on the sir.
He leaned over and kissed me before saying, “Enough of that, you.” I kissed his cheek and got up to pour more wine. I had a good twelve hours before I needed to sober up, so I was going to take full advantage
