CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Washington, D,C. Two days later …
Jetlagged but relaxed, Remi sat across from Daniel at a table in the city’s most exclusive French restaurant. They sat amid a hushed crowd listening to a live string quartet in an expansive room with mirrored walls and gilt columns. The only off-note to the calm ambience was Daniel crunching loudly on breadsticks.
“So what’s good here?” he asked, looking through the menu. “Everything on this menu is in French.”
“Allow me to order. First we should get some wine.”
“Yeah, maybe. What’s the best French beer?”
“They don’t serve beer here. Are you going to get fish or meat?”
“I thought we were ordering wine first.”
“Yes, but I need to know if we’re eating fish or meat, so I know whether to get white or red.”
“Oh, right, I knew that,
