Charlie’s spoken of you often,” said Camilla Stokes. My friend the poor widower, no doubt, thought Hudson. “Are you settling into your house?” She smiled up at him, peering over tortoise half-glasses. She checked some detail in the reservations list, then removed the glasses, patted the arm of the very tall, striking, young redheaded woman who had materialized at her elbow, and murmured, “The Georges want to come at nine instead of nine-thirty. Seven or eighteen should be free, I think.” She came from behind the narrow mahogany table with its small reading stand, offered her hand, and gracefully edged Hudson toward the least crowded corner of the large foyer. “Laurel’s so wonderful….” She was a slender woman of medium height and wore a long, pale pistachio shift and plain gold earrings that set off her eyes and hair. Her eyes were hazel and revealed a certain calm, almost a languidity, and her slightly graying brown hair, parted in something like an old-fashioned page boy, fell attractively to one side, blunt cut midway on her long, graceful neck.
What do You think about The Edge Of The Gulf (2010)?
