The dinner

Vicky

Right on time, at 5:45 p.m., a limousine stopped in front of Petry’s house. Wow!

The driver got out, a tall man in a crisp suit, tipping his cap as he greeted me with a polite, "Good evening, ma’am." He swung the door open with a practiced flourish, and I slid into the plush leather inte...

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