The sliding glass door to the side patio was unlocked. Pushing it roughly aside, she stomped outside and looked about, hands on her hips. Come on, she...thought, finding no giggling partygoers crouched behind bushes, or poorly hidden behind trees and patio furniture. No cops with flashlights, either. The fucking snow had stopped falling, at least. A dusting covered the flagstones, and the surrounding grass. A thick overcast threatened more, however. She ought to head home, and the sooner the. " No. There's a guy who's looking to buy some acreage down here and I was at a meeting with him yesterday. Anyway, all of a sudden he's layin' into the CSIRO and how they meddle in business and then he begins cursin' you. So I remembered you and how you helped Shirl and gave a talk at the Wine Institute. And I thought I'd call and tip you off, 'cause he's layin' for you." Well, thanks. What was his name?" Darrell." Darrell. No, I don't think I've met him. But thanks again. And say hello to. More

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