The Search
The inside of Mr. Hart’s carriage was entirely lined in red velvet. I felt like a doll inside a music-box as Amelia and I rode along.
I’d never asked where the luncheon was to take place, so I felt relieved when the carriage stopped at a private restaurant on Market Center rather than continuing on into Hart quadrant.
The Kournikova was on the northeast side of the island. It’d been a common meeting-place for the Four Families back when they used to meet together, long before I was born.
Outside, the building looked non-descript, even a bit shabby. But inside, it was lovely: walls in two tones of mustard-brown with golden edgings, thick reddish-brown carpeting, chairs upholstered in Paisley, woven in green, gray, gold, and brown.
The tables in the long, narrow room were set
