Yet again, I exchange glances with James.
This is going nowhere fast…
He stamps his feet, rubs his hands together. “Perhaps we should take a break? Something hot? Talk about what to do next?”
“Perhaps…” I cast around. “That coffee bar looks as good a place as any.”
We troop across to the brightly lit cafe. It’s a classic greasy-spoon. Cheap tiles. Wipe-down walls and Formica tops. But it’s warm, clean, and smells enticingly of caffeine and toast. The added scent of bacon has us all shedding coats and gloves to gather around a table.
“Yup, what’ll it be?” The waitress stands over us, pad in hand, her voice weary.
“I’ll have a coffee with a splash of whiskey,” I say.
James nods. “Sounds good. Me too.”
“And me,” says Klempner.
But Charlotte’s voice ripples with surprise. “Natalie?”
