Early in the evening there were tourists in the village still meandering through the tiny streets in search of bargains. Jocelyn ducked into several shops picking up stray items that struck her fancy. She was living on mad money, that fund she’d created long before Reggie, that was intended to cushion her against some dangerous financial fall. Using it for its intended purpose she had no need to dip into her husband’s money or even try to extract cash from her defunct business. Her attorneys would probably eat away anything that was left after she tubed it all—and just as well. Better to have everything stay safely in the past where she didn’t have to think of it.
“Ah, I’d hoped to find you,” a man’s voice took hold of her thoughts in the middle of buying a hand-painted silk scarf.
“You
