Victoria had settled nicely into her new home, renting furniture and purchasing a classy wardrobe certain to impress the neighbors. The one hitch in her plan threatened to unhinge everything: an apparent lack of support from her neighbor to the street-side right ( Read more... )

Mr. Weston’s office was full of things that separated him from the destitute: his desk made of deep ebony; his typewriter, Underwood and underused; his phone, brass and shiny; his pens made of stone and as useless as the Underwood. He scanned Vikki’s resume as if he actually found it interesting. “Impressive,” he said. “You’ve done a lot of work in ( Read more... )

The chill of winter had become foreign to a woman who resided in the warm climates she preferred. Though she sat in a taxi, her fur coat stayed on. It had come directly from Paris to Havana by ship, especially made for her by Charles’ designer friend. Sufficient, but replaceable. She’d find a better one in New York, and damn Charles if he ( Read more... )