8
The mild morning was expected to ripen into an unseasonably warm day. Seattle September weather was as fickle as a blushing, adolescent girl–one day bright and sunny, the next dull and gloomy. Fittingly, it also described my ambivalent mood as I motored to my office. I felt a deep sense of relief anticipating returning the formula to Francois, coupled with a splash of anxiety wondering how Brie and I would relate.
Dressed in a fashionable gray business suit, Carrie stood on the porch smoking a cigarette, her smile warm and inviting. Her eyes were focused over my head to the park beyond, as if deep in thought.
“I thought you’d quit,” I said, climbing the porch stairs. I picked up the tip of a Douglas fir branch on the stair near my foot and tossed it on the ground.
“I did,” Carrie sai
