Nick watched the play at the blackjack table he was sitting at with minimal interest. He’d been in Vegas a week. Charles’s reply to Nick’s faxed application had been instantaneous—Nick could start bright and early that Monday morning. Which had meant no breakfast with Grace. Which had been a good...
She wouldn’t worry about whether or not she was any good. She’d try to recapture the joy she remembered from when she and her sisters had danced for their father. She could almost picture him in the front row, his thick wavy black hair gleaming from the greasy tonic he used to keep it in place. H...