CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When Amara finally brought Lupe to the phone, she seemed amenable to meeting me halfway. The optimistic lilt in Lupe’s voice matched Amara’s. Perhaps it was a genetic trait.
“There’s a cute little place I’ve heard about, just off Georgia Avenue in Silver Spring,” she said. The name she gave me rang a bell. “I’d love to give it a try. We could meet for coffee at, say, eleven?”
“Works for me,” I said. “You sure you don’t mind making the drive? The parking around there can be . . . .” I left out all the pertinent expletives.
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