Today's Reading

After a few more minutes, an immigration official finally called her forward and pointed her in the direction of a free booth. With some trepidation, she approached the desk and smiled weakly at the solemn, heavyset man sitting behind it.

He didn't return the smile. "Documents, please."

The guy studied her details for what seemed like an age, looking from the paperwork to Leonie and back again, while almost instinctively, she averted her eyes from his gaze.

She wasn't sure why exactly; it was just what one did in these situations. She hated being made to feel so uncomfortable though, in the same way she'd felt when going through the metal detectors earlier. Why did all this stuff make her feel as if she were up to no good?

"What do you do for a living?" the official asked, his tone neutral.

"I work for an event management company, Xanadu," she replied, the half-truth tripping off her tongue.

"Okay, place your left index finger where indicated." He pointed to the digital contraption on top of the desk. When Leonie complied, he asked her to repeat the same process with her right hand. "Now please stand back and look just here..."

Again she did as she was bid and looked at the camera lens, eager to get the whole thing over and done with.

There was a brief delay as the official double-checked her paperwork, and after inputting something into his computer, he proceeded to double-stamp her papers.

"And you're all set," he said, his mouth finally breaking into a smile as he handed back her passport and preclearance immigration documents. "Welcome to the United States."


CHAPTER TWO

"So I've got a confession to make."

Leonie looked up, her heart sinking as she wondered what was coming. She supposed she should've known better than to assume finding a place was that simple, that anything could be simple these days. "Oh?"

The real estate agent smiled. "This one isn't strictly available right now. It's a pocket listing."

"Oh, okay." Leonie looked around the apartment, trying her best not to look too interested, but the truth was she'd fallen in love with the apartment on sight. Nothing else she'd seen over the last two weeks had even come close.

It was a compact living space on the top floor of a converted 1800s Victorian on Green Street in a pretty, tree-lined neighborhood in the heart of San Francisco. It was an ideal location within walking distance of cafés, restaurants, and the myriad little boutiques and galleries on nearby side streets.

With its oak ceiling carvings, ornate fireplace, and huge bay window, the place was warm, cozy, and simply bursting with character. From the living room window, Leonie could nearly make out (if she moved to the far right and stood high on her tiptoes) the Golden Gate Bridge straddling the waters of the bay, while the teeniest corner of Alcatraz Island was just visible from the left. Below, the roofs of neighboring homes descended steplike toward the bay, where sailboats sparkled prettily beneath the sunlight.

But even without the gorgeous views, there was something about these old Victorian houses that captivated her. From the outside, this one was chocolate-box pretty, painted in white and eggshell blue and elaborately embellished with decorative cornices and moldings, angled bay windows, and a wooden arcade porch. Adding to the charm, neighboring homes were painted in various other pastel shades, which made them look like a row of dollhouses. It was a design that typified much of the architectural style in this part of the city and one of the reasons she had so quickly fallen in love with San Francisco.

For the first time in weeks, she finally felt able to breathe again.

Granted, the interior of the apartment was dated and a little grubby, but nothing that a little TLC couldn't cure. The oak parquet floor would scrub up nicely, and she could liven up the living room with some colorful rugs, funky cushions for that threadbare sofa, and artwork on the walls. The kitchenette was small but practical, and the bedroom adjoining the living room was bright and roomy and had plenty of wardrobe space. Not that she'd need much of that, for the moment at least. But most importantly, it was a million times better than her current, temporary shoebox in the Holiday Inn.
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