“Not that it was overly fancy. It was tasteful and posh without being excessive. It looked exactly the way she'd expect the office of a successful San Francisco real estate person to look. Ken Lewis fit his office. Slacks and a dress shirt, no tie, clean cut, moderately nice watch on his wrist. If he were a recipe, he'd have been tarte tatin: simple, elegant, and universally accepted. Daniela crossed her legs and pumped her foot, watching him squint at his computer monitor. Tony had always manag...ed the business stuff for her. He bought the buildings and signed the contracts. She was in charge of fondant and candied violets. A flutter of nerves made her stomach clench. She lifted her chin. This was a good idea, and she was smart and capable. She could do this. "Here it is," Ken said, his fingers clacking clumsily on the keyboard. "The old motel on Harrison, South of Market. The price is certainly low." "It's a dump." He looked around his large monitor at her. "But you want it?" "I want to turn it into a soup kitchen." "Soup kitchen," he repeated with skepticism.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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