The rain outside was coming down in steady, cold sheets, and my coat smelled of damp wool from the walk up the long stone steps. It had cost eighty dollars for the cab ride from my small apartment in Chicago to the gated estate in Oak Brook, a sum Diane would have spent on a single lunch without a second thought. The driver had dropped me at the edge of the circular driveway, and by the time I reached the porch, my shoes were soaked through. I stood on the edge of the vintage Persian rug in the foyer, keeping my wet feet off the polished white oak floor.
Cold Water Spilled on a Grey Dress Ended My Former Family Business
