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front row. Beatatrice was beaming up at me. She tapped her purse. I knew what she was signaling. The checkbook. She wanted to make sure I had brought the checkbook. Megan was leaning forward, her eyes hungry, devouring me.
She was mentally counting the money. I took a deep breath. Friends, family, partners. I began. My voice shook just enough to sell continue reading …
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