"Well you've got good taste, that's a plus. At least he doesn't look like Joe Stanpolk," she said when she handed it back to me. "So, what happened?"I...shook my head. "I'm going to make some tea. Want some?" Tell me what happened!" she yelled, and to anyone else she would've sounded angry, but I knew, and she on the raw edge of pain and panic.In answer, I grabbed my journal, turned the key to unlock it, and opened it to the page I'd started writing on Christmas Eve before handing it to her."What. If the business was yours..." he started."Don't even go there, Roger. I don't know the business and neither do you. We'd play hell making a go of it I'm certain. So, like I said, for now we have to be content with what we have and that's all," she said. He sighed."I suppose—for now at least," he said. "But, I'm going to get some of the stuff we talked about worked on. If and when he ever signs off on it, and I know you could get him to; well, it'd be point, set, match to us. Think about it.". More

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