He looks away, not even a quiver of recognition, and taps his fingers onthe counter with gentle impatience.Why should he recognise me? I am nobody to ...im. Another step, I need tohear his voice, I want to see the pores in his skin, that chicken poxscar at his temple. One step, then another, thoughtlessly leaving myhandbag and portfolio on the sofa I'd been perched on. Like a cat with asparrow I focus on him until my spike heel clicks conspicuously on thetiles near the reception desk.He looks. " She said to make it out to you." Mr. Bishop explained.Damn it. Now I needed to make a major purchase or I was going to lose more than half that to Uncle."All right ... I mean it's not ... but what can I say?" I took the check. "What are your plans?"Mr. Bishop suggested he might head for Chicago ... John, the driver, would do as he always did ... drive back to Chicago alone. Captain Smith would take the 46 foot Chris Craft back to the Marina in Chicago and fly back to pick up the Burger."I. More

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