THE WOMAN ACROSS THE table, a Madame Penelope, kept staring at his hands, her eyes narrow slits as if she studied the fine print of a lengthy contract and was confused.
Carson Reed couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, sitting across the table that was draped in a gaudy tablecloth, while some flamboyantly dressed woman in a bright muumuu and wearing a ton of gold necklaces and large hoop earrings held his hand and stared into his eyes for a moment, almost as if she could see right through him, and then dropped her gaze to his hand once more. Not what he expected to do on a Monday afternoon, to be sure. Yet, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. His dreams were costing him countless hours of sleeplessness with his constant tossing and turning throughout the night. He couldn’t f
