The Ghost of Hannah Mendes
“The last one. I really thought they’d lost it,” Francesca said, peering anxiously down the luggage conveyer. She grabbed the handle of the enormous Pullman, attempting to dissuade it from its relentless momentum forward. It wouldn’t budge.“Ask one of these guys to help you, Francesca. Men love that.”“I can manage perfectly well,” she insisted, breathless with exertion, the suitcase moving her, rather than vice-versa.“Right.” Suzanne sighed, joining her sister and pushing at the dead weight with... all her might until it slid to the floor. Together, they lifted it onto a luggage cart. “Really, Francesca! First commandment: Reduce consumption,” Suzanne complained, throwing her duffle bag over her shoulder. “This kind of Grand Hotel traveling went out with Greta Garbo. If you insist on traveling this way, get a husband! Oh, look! Tourist brochures.”She picked up a few and leafed through the various listings of restaurants, nightclubs, galleries, and services. “Listen: ‘Mandeer.MoreLess
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