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client that was requiring much of her time. She had to admit that Oliviaā€™s explanation had in some way fallen short. There was an edge to her voice that revealed there was more to it than being busy with work. Just as she checked her watch for the third time, Olivia swept into the restaurant foyer, a departing gentleman having held the door open as his eyes followed her movements. She looked both chic and Boho in her tall boots, short leopard print skirt, and black silk blouse tied loosely at the waist. A dark indigo jean jacket was draped casually over one shoulder. As usual, her large earrings swung freely, framed by a copper shock of hair hanging in loose waves. Valerie was used to Oliviaā€™s ā€˜entrances.ā€™ She had been little more than a child when Valerie first met her, but by the time she had reached eighteen, heads always turned when she entered a room.

Olivia looked around and spotted her lunch companion. She waved, walked quickly to the table, and before taking a seat gave Valerie a light kiss on each cheek. The waiter stood at the edge of the outdoor area, staring at Olivia, failing to approach their table or any other. Olivia usually seemed oblivious to the attention she would garnerā€” a trait her mother insisted was a sign that she lacked both guile and conceit. She placed her leather bag on the unused chair and settled back, crossing her arms in front of her.

She cocked her head and looked squarely at Valerie. ā€œWell, what was so urgent that we had to have lunch today?ā€

ā€œI donā€™t know if urgent is the right word, but my reason is importantā€” to me at least.ā€ Valerie leaned forward and put her forearms on the table before continuing. ā€œYou remember that Iā€™ve had to close the shop, right?ā€ Olivia nodded yes. Valerie took a deep breath and said, ā€œI want to take a little trip while itā€™s closed. In fact, Iā€™d be surprised if my father doesnā€™t close it down for good when he takes his quarterly look at the numbers.ā€

ā€œI didnā€™t know it was that bad. But then I havenā€™t really talked to you for quite a while. Why is that, I wonder?ā€

ā€œI think we can share that responsibilityā€” and for my part, Iā€™m sorry.ā€ Valerie leaned back again, still leaving her menu on the table. The same waiter, a tall and lanky young man with a ponytail, had kept his eyes on themā€” either because they were both attractive women, or because he was anxious for them to order. There was a pause while the two women stared at each other, each waiting for the other to say something.

Olivia broke the stalemate and asked, ā€œWhat does your decision to take a trip have to do with me?ā€

ā€œIā€™d rather not go alone. We always used to have fun together, didnā€™t weā€” before Ben and I divorcedā€” and even after?ā€ She waited for a response, her expression expectant, perhaps even needy.

ā€œYes, I looked up to you when I was an adolescentā€” thought you were beautiful and that I was uglyā€” typical teenage angst.ā€ She smiled remembering what she now knew was silliness. ā€œI never had a sister, so you were conscripted into that role. I was truly devastated when you and Ben split up.ā€

ā€œSo was Iā€¦ā€ Valerie seemed to stop mid-sentence and for a moment looked off into space, obviously visiting some memory of Ben. Whether that thought was good or bad, Olivia couldnā€™t tell. ā€œSo, what do you think? Are you up for a little adventure?ā€

ā€œWhat makes you think I can just walk off the job? And even if I could get some time off, it wouldnā€™t be paid vacation. I havenā€™t worked there long enough. I canā€™t pay my expenses without a full monthā€™s salary.ā€

ā€œIā€™ve already thought about that. Of course I wouldnā€™t expect you get yourself into a fix. Iā€™ve worked it all out.ā€

ā€œHow, pray tell?ā€ Olivia now leaned forward and gazed quizzically at Valerie. At that moment a tiny bird landed at the edge of their table and chirped a request that they drop a morsel of bread onto the tile floor. They both looked away from each other and at the bird, which prompted laughter and a return to their old companionability.

Valerie suggested that they order lunch, and while waiting to be served she would explain the plan. She motioned to the waiter, who with an eye to his tips for the day seemed relieved they would no longer just sit there, keeping the table out of circulation. He took the order and disappeared from sight. As promised, Valerie began her explanation of how they would finance the excursion: the credit card, her small savings account, and the successful plea to her mother, who agreed to keep it between them. She estimated the total amount available and asked if Olivia had any money she could throw into the pot.

ā€œValerie, youā€™re getting ahead of yourself. I donā€™t even know if I can get a week or ten days off work. And where do you want to go? Have you thought about that? How far the money will go depends on where you go.ā€

ā€œI havenā€™t got my heart set on any place in particular. I just know one thing: I want to get out of England for a while, and I donā€™t want to set foot on American soil.ā€

At that point the waiter arrived with their food, and although they ate for a while without conversing, it was clear that both were thinking about the trip, but for different reasons. Valerie was anxious to avoid the stress of her failing business and her fatherā€™s wrath, while Olivia had very different considerationsā€” her job being second to her developing interest in Clive Warren. She expected him to call her for another date, but she hadnā€™t heard from him. Much to her surprise, that was all she could seem to think about.

Yet Valerie was not only her ex-sister-in-law, but

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