Bridget said. Gerry nodded over his coffee cup. They’d met at a Starbucks in Portland’s trendy Northwest District. All the tables were taken, so they sat at the counter-bar. On the wall in front of them were newspapers, hanging by clothespins on a line—for the customers to read. Bridget had chosen the Starbucks this Tuesday morning so their meeting wouldn’t turn into a shouting match. She’d been a few minutes late, and found her estranged husband with his nose in one of the newspapers. She hadn’t seen Gerry since their last meeting three weeks before—and that had been with the lawyers. This time around, she noticed he looked pretty handsome, damn him. He’d lost some weight, and must have gotten some sun recently. His curly gray-brown hair had a touch of blond in it. He wore a tan suit, some designer label, and a tie that matched his blue eyes. Bridget wore a pale green suit that he’d always liked. She hated the part of her that still needed to look attractive for him.
