She stands at the window and thinks of the last time she was here. Two years ago, a sexy corporate embezzlement case brought her to this very hotel. The Whitehall reminds her of what she used to be, of the intellectual sparring during the day and the long dinners with clients in trendy restaurants at night. It has the old-world luxury absent in most American hotels—the penned note on the pillow of her turned-down bed; the thick white robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door; a glass of her favorite cognac poured just so on the side table, remembered from her last visit. Nestled off of Michigan Avenue in the Gold Coast, it speaks to her of times past and of times that may never come again. She resists the strong urge to answer Tony’s frantic calls. She knows he will hit the roof if he finds out that she has violated the terms of her bond…yet again. With any luck, she will be back in Plano tonight with at least one piece of information that will keep the hearing from being a disaster.
