By the time Joanne got out of the shower, she had a text from Edie waiting for her. How about the Bistro at 12:30?
Great! Joanne texted back. CU there!
The Bistro sounded like a posh little place downtown but wasn’t. It was a family-owned deli not far from Joanne’s office building, actually, and she stopped there for a cheesesteak or hoagie at least once a week. The lunch specials were reasonably priced and the service was quick, and the Lebanese owners made a damn good baklava.
As she was pulling into the Bistro’s small parking lot, Joanne’s phone pinged. She didn’t see Edie’s truck, but she was a few minutes early. Was Edie bailing on her? Sorry, change of plans. Joanne could almost see the text in her mind’s eye, and she pulled up the hand brake but didn’t turn off the car’s engine a
