1.1.16
“So what exactly did you say to him?” Colton asked, leaning over his plate of steak. They were in Mangiamo, seated in the wine cellar; down here, surrounded by candlelight, the smells of steak and pasta rose in succulent aromas among the stony walls.
Selma was halfway through her French onion soup; it must have been good, because she’d been unusually quiet since the waitress—a blonde woman with a spray-on-tan—brought it to the table. “What do you mean, what did I say?”
“I mean, you must have said something to get through to him,” Colton said.
The transformation had been nothing short of miraculous. Marty had come out of his bedroom ten minutes after Selma had gone in to meet him. He was wide-eyed, smiling, and after giving Colton a hug, he asked if Selma could come over again so
