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"There're only six of us. Let's see what you have in the freezer," Morgan suggested. He opened the door and began rummaging. "Waffles, croissants, some fake egg stuffand a loaf of French bread. Hell, that's a feast. And in the back here is a can of apple juice. You can see what my years as a bachelor have done to make me into a food scrounger. A man can eat only so much pizza, so I got pretty good at throwing stuff together." |
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Anna kissed him lightly and helped spread his loot out on the counter. "So what do I do with all this?" |
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"Turn on the oven. Heat the waffles and the croissants. Get a flat bowl for the egg guck. Mix in a bit of vanilla. Slice the bread and soak it in the bowl for French toast. I'll microwave the bacon and mix the juice. No syrup, I see. Heat up this strawberry jelly, and use it." He turned and caught her around the waist. "I miss you," he said. "Leesburg is so quiet I can hear the grass grow." |
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"I miss you, too," Anna said, and this time kissed him properly. "But this is only a sublet for six months. It's just until I get the photographs sorted and indexed and an outline of the book finished for my publisher. It's easier to get to the airports from here when I give lectures to what you call the Little Groups of Earnest Thinkers. And I do have to make a living. You know there was no place for me to work at your house. Besides, Tripoli seemed to think my manuscript box had been put on the table just so he'd have a place to sleep, and he makes me sneeze." |
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Morgan released her. "I apologize for Tripoli," he said. |
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The doorbell rang, and Anna and Morgan went together to greet their guests. After the flurry of hellos, she excused herself and went back into the kitchen. It's really Morgan's day, she thought, or else I never would have invited Vincent Kellner or Avery Peters. Morgan is the Rose Garden hero today. A Distinguished Service Medal from the President. He seems pleased. Why am I not? Is the ghost of the Red Vicar leading me still? |
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