The Velvet Meridian
The Velvet Meridian The Long Island sun went down behind the cypress hedges like a coin dropped into a well, and Claire Beaumont stood on the veranda with a champagne flute she had no intention of drinking, watching the men in white tuxedos scatter across the lawn like dice thrown on a green felt table."You're doing that thing again," Spike said, appearing at her elbow as if he'd materialized...
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