Page 178 - SpontaneousSuccessMatos

a Macieira brandy for each of us. Then another. Then,
reaching into her handbag, she nervously pulled out a
small photo album.
“Mister Nick, I have a confession to make.” She
opened the album.
“Ok,” I interrupted, “and I have a favor to ask.”
She took a healthy swig of the Macieira. So did I.
“Cheers.”
“Please, Francesca, don’t call me Mister Nick
anymore. Just Nick, or even Nicko, but forget the
‘Mister’.”
“Ha! On one condition then. I’m Frankie.” No longer
nervous, she laughed. “Ok Nicko, cheers.”
We clinked our brandy snifters.
“Cheers, Frankie.”
She hit the call button and ordered two more
Macieiras.”
“Now. About this confession.”
“I want you to see something," she said, flipping the
pages of the photo album slowly.
First were some snaps of Lavanda. It had changed
and she had to explain where things were. Then came a
few snaps of Casilda in a real estate office. She stopped
at a snapshot of Thomas waving from the Oldsmobile
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