Tonight, she was the tomboy when she came walking into the pub. Curly blonde hair falling past her shoulders. Heavy-looking, black-framed glasses sitting on her nose. Wearing dark slacks and comfortable-looking shoes. Draped over one shoulder was her small laptop case. On her startling red lips a wide smile of sunshine warm enough to thaw the Donner party back into life.
Several lawyers and doctors stopped talking and followed her with their eyes as she swept past them. She had the stride of a woman who knew what she wanted … and who knew how to handle the wolves who usually inhabited drinking holes like this. Nobody tried to stop her as she walked up to the waiting Turner, standing now by his table, the bottle of Warsteiner in one hand.
Debra was tall, almost six foot tall, which was an
