SASHA“H
ey, what about a mariachi band?” Lynn asked, furiously scribbling notes on the small pad she’d pulled from a worn leather purse. She yawned, covering her mouth. “Sorry, couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Me neither,” Sasha replied. The accidental run-in with Peter’s ex-wife at the market had left Sasha shaken.
The late morning light drifting through the office windows revealed hints of beautiful golden natural highlights in the dark red of Lynn’s hair. Peter also liked redheads, she thought. Stop it, Sasha! Maybe she’d like to have it professionally done for Christmas. That was a good idea for a gift. What else could Sasha give? Something Lynn couldn’t afford. That was the wonderful thing about having money; she could support all of her friends. How did Lynn make ends meet?
“Do you h
