The Last Dry Martini
The Last Dry Martini The bar at the Waldorf was the kind of place where men paid eighty dollars for a drink and called it networking. Vera Chase stood at the edge of it all in a dress she had found at a thrift store and a mood she had manufactured herself. She was waiting for someone. Not a date. A reckoning. Her family had decided that marriage to some financial analyst named Sebastian would...
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