Chapter 2
Atlanta, GACharles
Atlanta, GACharles
THE LATE MAY heat, though not excessive, hit me with a blast as I entered the parking garage underneath the downtown Atlanta office building where my law firm was located. The heat did nothing to improve my mood, which had been spiraling downward for the past hour, although one would have to have been intimately acquainted with me to have picked up any indication of that from my demeanor.
As the scion of an old Georgia family, I’d been reared in the very best ‘stiff upper lip’ tradition by a dowager paternal grandmother, my parents having been killed in an automobile accident when I was very young. It was an article of faith in Gran’s world that well-bred people simply must not ever lose their composure—at least not in public. “If you eve
