An hour later I sat at Spaghetti Tree, the best Italian restaurant in my opinion. The owners weren’t from Italy, yet they perfected their skills up north before setting their roots just outside of Sevier Oak. I loved the logo, a maple tree made out of spaghetti noodles. Spaghetti Tree was notorious for hosting parties like graduations, holiday dinners, and birthdays.
And business meetings.
A headache was coming, a sign that I’d been overworked, overthinking, and overly stressed. Hank Bingham didn’t say what was so important, just that he needed to talk to me. I ran my garnet charm up and down the chain. My thoughts circled around the same questions. What is this about? Why now?
I took several sips of water, waiting for Teresa’s lawyer. Glancing at other people, I suddenly felt underdres
