“Tonight we’ll go out to Olympia or something,” she promised. “That would be fun, right?” “Why don’t you just lock me in the basement,” I suggested, “and forget the sugar coating?” Alice frowned. “He’s going to take the Porsche back. I’m not doing a very good job. You’re supposed to be having fun.” “It’s not your fault,” I muttered. I couldn’t believe I actually felt guilty. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
