We use cookies
When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Your cookies settings
Strictly cookie settingsAlways Active
Chapter 5-2
The Province was one of Lincoln Park’s newest restaurants. Tiny, it had been decorated to look like the home of a French peasant, or at least what a Chicagoan might imagine such a home would look like. There were wide plank tongue-and-groove wooden floors, ecru walls painted to look like aged parchment, complete with artfully placed cracks, some large enough to let the brickwork beneath show through. A large fieldstone fireplace dominated one wall of the room, its mantel crowded with pewter candlesticks, rustic leather-bound books, and above it, a mirror that had been shattered and reassembled. Across from the fireplace stood a small bar with no stools, only a brass rail, where patrons could order drinks like Pernod or Lillet Blanc. Between the fireplace and the bar were about eight or nin
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD
