“Oh my God!”, Amy exclaimed. “I left your suitcase at the Sorbonne, Margaret. I’m sorry. I was in just too much of a hurry to get out of there...before Alexander could free himself.”Margaret scowled for just a minute. “Damn, we have to go back for the dossier.”Amy smiled. “No. We don’t. At least, I did something right. I grabbed Alexander’s papers out of your suitcase and put them in my back pack. Your suitcase is still open in the middle of the room. We have credit cards passports and money.. He’d cupped a bun while she was fixing it. While not thrilling, it was better than the usual tiny kiss she dutifully got as he arrived home from work.Mort was five years older and a good, dependable breadwinner with a very secure future. That’s what made her agree to marry him, having spent too much of her childhood trailing around with a rather irresponsible single mom and two other siblings whose fathers, like hers, couldn’t even be guessed at. Security was paramount, even if it meant. More

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