The next afternoon, after Claire wrapped up an article she had written and the newspaper had gone to the printer, she hopped onto a trolley going in the direction of the Tindari.
More than once on the walk there, she patted the skirt pocket to make sure the letter she had written to Anthony last night was still there.
The weather had turned hot this May day. Claire strolled down the walk, cotton skirt swishing, her heart light. She took in deep breaths of the fragrant air, at least where the exhaust of traffic hadn"t fouled it.
"Is Anthony here?" Claire asked when she arrived at the restaurant. There was a scattering of customers at the tables, but it was still early enough that the dinner crowd had not yet arrived. She longed to see Anthony, but Jimmy just shook his head at the questio
