Suspicion of Betrayal
“She slammed the car door and tossed her umbrella to the floor of the passenger side. Pausing at the end of the gated driveway, wipers sweeping sheets of water off the windshield, Gail hit speed-dial for Anthony's office.
Mr. Quintana was with a client. "Please tell him I'm running late. We'll meet him at the hospital." Gail had learned that the stereotype about Cuban time didn't apply to Anthony. He was punctual to the minute, and would keep checking his watch if he had to wait around for someo...ne else to get ready.
With her headlights on, she hurried as fast as she dared on the narrow residential streets, barreling through puddles and swerving around a palm frond. She turned onto U.S. 1, the main artery through the south part of the county. A half mile later, taillights blazed, and she hit the brakes. Trapped in the middle lane behind a panel truck, Gail couldn't see what the problem was.
She called home. "Lynn? It's me, stuck in a traffic jam. There must be an accident. I'm going to be late.MoreLess
Mr. Quintana was with a client. "Please tell him I'm running late. We'll meet him at the hospital." Gail had learned that the stereotype about Cuban time didn't apply to Anthony. He was punctual to the minute, and would keep checking his watch if he had to wait around for someo...ne else to get ready.
With her headlights on, she hurried as fast as she dared on the narrow residential streets, barreling through puddles and swerving around a palm frond. She turned onto U.S. 1, the main artery through the south part of the county. A half mile later, taillights blazed, and she hit the brakes. Trapped in the middle lane behind a panel truck, Gail couldn't see what the problem was.
She called home. "Lynn? It's me, stuck in a traffic jam. There must be an accident. I'm going to be late.MoreLess
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