riots and robberies, mostly unscathed but always successfully.
But that would all end soon. Her father talked about retiring, and knowing that she wasn’t interested in keeping the Wingate Lounge open, his only option was to sell. She wasn’t particularly heartbroken. It was the bar that had pried apart his marriage and made him give her up so long ago.
Just after her mother died, he withdrew into his work, leaving her, at four years old, to fend for herself. He was completely distraught and inconsolable. All he saw left in his life was the bar, so he clung to it, leaving no room for her.
For a long time, she hated him for leaving her. But then, with her grandmother and grandfather’s help, she learned to understand his pain without losing her own. They, her father and grandmother, were unlikely allies who set aside their differences to raise her. She lived with her grandmother in her big house in a beautiful old and stately neighborhood, then hung out at her father’s place on weekends. She was never allowed to go into the bar by either of them.
Alyssa got into her car and drove to meet her friend.
It was Sunday morning, five minutes before nine, and Randolph was already seated at a window seat in a small café in Georgetown. Dressed casually, he blended in perfectly with his surroundings. No one recognized him. He was just another guy sitting in a hotel café, flipping through the Sunday-morning newspaper.
A baseball cap dipped low over his eyes, he checked out those entering and leaving. A typical crowd, he assumed. They greeted each other or nodded while they busily filled their cups.
The hotel lobby was connected to the café, but most of the patrons appeared to be coming from the street entrance on the other side. There were several couples seated near him, chatting quietly, but to the side, there was a double table of six women sipping frothy beverages and eating puffed-up pastries. They glanced at him sitting there alone several times, but he made it a point to look away in the other direction.
As the café got crowded, people constantly coming in waves, he seemingly focused his attention on the newspaper until it emptied out again. Then, by chance, the paper flipped to the local-news section, he saw an article with his photo. It was taken with a local politician and the caption read Senator Randolph Kingsley and Ombudsman Clark Jefferson Chat at a Local Fund-raiser. He vaguely remembered the photo. He didn’t read the article, but for some reason, it made him uneasy. He made a mental note to read it later.
“Hi, remember me?”
Randolph looked up, expecting to see Alyssa. He didn’t. “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” he said.
“That’s okay,” she said, sitting down across from him. “I was at the fund-raiser last Thursday with my girlfriend. She and I…”
Randolph smiled and nodded. “Yes, I do remember you now, Ms. Hall. Nina, right?”
Nina’s eyes brightened as she nodded. She had no idea that he would remember her name. “Yes. That’s me.”
“How are you this morning?”
“Great. I can’t believe you actually remembered my name,” she said in wonder as she slid down in the seat across from him.
“It was only a few days ago,” he assured her.
“Yeah, but still, you meet, like, millions of people every day. I could never remember them all.”
“I have a very good memory and believe it or not, I don’t really meet that many people.”
“Well, anyway, I need to confess, it was me who asked you to come here this morning.”
“Really?” Randolph said, hoping he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt. “And why is that?”
“I know it was kind of a lousy ruse and all and I know your time is precious and it was terrible of me to do. But I really wanted to talk to you.” Nina talked fast because from her seat she saw Alyssa approach by way of the hotel entrance.
“It was indeed. With you having said that, what can I do for you, Ms. Hall?”
“Nina,
But that would all end soon. Her father talked about retiring, and knowing that she wasn’t interested in keeping the Wingate Lounge open, his only option was to sell. She wasn’t particularly heartbroken. It was the bar that had pried apart his marriage and made him give her up so long ago.
Just after her mother died, he withdrew into his work, leaving her, at four years old, to fend for herself. He was completely distraught and inconsolable. All he saw left in his life was the bar, so he clung to it, leaving no room for her.
For a long time, she hated him for leaving her. But then, with her grandmother and grandfather’s help, she learned to understand his pain without losing her own. They, her father and grandmother, were unlikely allies who set aside their differences to raise her. She lived with her grandmother in her big house in a beautiful old and stately neighborhood, then hung out at her father’s place on weekends. She was never allowed to go into the bar by either of them.
Alyssa got into her car and drove to meet her friend.
It was Sunday morning, five minutes before nine, and Randolph was already seated at a window seat in a small café in Georgetown. Dressed casually, he blended in perfectly with his surroundings. No one recognized him. He was just another guy sitting in a hotel café, flipping through the Sunday-morning newspaper.
A baseball cap dipped low over his eyes, he checked out those entering and leaving. A typical crowd, he assumed. They greeted each other or nodded while they busily filled their cups.
The hotel lobby was connected to the café, but most of the patrons appeared to be coming from the street entrance on the other side. There were several couples seated near him, chatting quietly, but to the side, there was a double table of six women sipping frothy beverages and eating puffed-up pastries. They glanced at him sitting there alone several times, but he made it a point to look away in the other direction.
As the café got crowded, people constantly coming in waves, he seemingly focused his attention on the newspaper until it emptied out again. Then, by chance, the paper flipped to the local-news section, he saw an article with his photo. It was taken with a local politician and the caption read Senator Randolph Kingsley and Ombudsman Clark Jefferson Chat at a Local Fund-raiser. He vaguely remembered the photo. He didn’t read the article, but for some reason, it made him uneasy. He made a mental note to read it later.
“Hi, remember me?”
Randolph looked up, expecting to see Alyssa. He didn’t. “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” he said.
“That’s okay,” she said, sitting down across from him. “I was at the fund-raiser last Thursday with my girlfriend. She and I…”
Randolph smiled and nodded. “Yes, I do remember you now, Ms. Hall. Nina, right?”
Nina’s eyes brightened as she nodded. She had no idea that he would remember her name. “Yes. That’s me.”
“How are you this morning?”
“Great. I can’t believe you actually remembered my name,” she said in wonder as she slid down in the seat across from him.
“It was only a few days ago,” he assured her.
“Yeah, but still, you meet, like, millions of people every day. I could never remember them all.”
“I have a very good memory and believe it or not, I don’t really meet that many people.”
“Well, anyway, I need to confess, it was me who asked you to come here this morning.”
“Really?” Randolph said, hoping he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt. “And why is that?”
“I know it was kind of a lousy ruse and all and I know your time is precious and it was terrible of me to do. But I really wanted to talk to you.” Nina talked fast because from her seat she saw Alyssa approach by way of the hotel entrance.
“It was indeed. With you having said that, what can I do for you, Ms. Hall?”
“Nina,
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