A Fateful Greed
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We sat on boulders and watched the sun set. The western horizon grew pale yellow, and the first stars appeared. A hawk circled below, scanning the lake for an evening meal.
As we walked through the front door, the clip-clop of a horse-drawn carriage drew near. In the middle of the sidewalk, just outside the entrance to the hotel, was an azure-colored shoe with a three inch heel lying on its side.
“I can understand the physical attraction,” I said. “He’s tall, handsome face. . . .”
“Believe me, honey. If you were hit by a beer truck, and Webb called on me, I’d have a hard time saying no.”
“What about Gwen?” I asked.
Tommy leaned against the rail. “One thing I’ll say about Gwen: When she sets her mind on something, she’s obsessive. I think she could do it.”
He flailed in the open air for a handhold , but there was nothing he could reach. My head hung over the edge.
“Hang on, buddy,” I said. “I’ve got you.”
But I didn’t have him. He had me. In a matter of seconds my arm would be ripped from the crack, and we would free-fall.