”“Bridge?”“The card game. Dad’s an expert bridge player. Before she got so sick, my sister and I would play my mom and dad in a weekly bridg... tournament.”“You know how to play?”“Yeah, but I’m pretty rusty. I’m more of a hold-em guy. Gloria’s good at it, too.”“Is your dad still practicing architecture?” April asked.“No -- he’s retired,” Ron replied as he steered his car onto a boulevard. “He does have a part-time job with the county as an assessor.”“I’ll bet that makes him a popular guy.” Ron. The chauffer offered her his hand as she got out of the car, but she gestured him off. The house before her was modest in size, but the garden was large. She walked the path the driver had indicated, and it was less than a minute before she came upon her host. He stood square in the path, blocking any progress. He welcomed her and invited her to a small sitting platform next to the garden’s artificial pond. The man was all business, and their conversation was short. Quickly they went through. More

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