ALEX

When I entered the restaurant, my eyes scanned the tables for the woman I was supposed to be meeting here.

I found her sitting at one of the tables to the right, going through the menu.

Margaret Keaton was a beautiful woman.

With dark brown hair peppered with streaks of silver, a round face bared, thanks to her hair pulled back in a ponytail, lips pulled up in a smile and green eyes bright and happy, she turned the eyes of both men and women.

At fifty, she appeared far younger than her age. Had it not been for her rapidly greying hair, she would have been able to...