“Yeah. I love the food court.” Chelsea’s tone more or less claimed the place as her home. “I always love coming here.”
“You do? Why?”
She let go of her coat and held her arms out to both sides. “Well, everyone’s here. All kinds of people, I mean. You wouldn’t believe who I’ve met here. Big business types and dudes from indie bands I like and . . .” She leaned forward, eyes even wider, and closed her coat just before Greg Arious sprang out like that creature from Alien. “Did you know that Oprah’s coming to Edmonton? I wouldn’t be surprised if she came in here. I hope I’ll be on shift then.”
Yes, I had heard of Oprah. The Grand no-longer-young Oprah. You couldn’t be an author and not have someone – often a family member – suggest that you should send your book to Oprah. But wasn’t she the
