9.2 THE BREACH 2

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not,” Madam Josefa said calmly. She poured herself a glass of sparkly green wine, plucked a sliced lemon from the fruit platter, and plopped it into her drink. I am amazed at how unaffected she appeared, considering the turmoil of emotions beneath this facade. She obviously had years of practice pretending to be okay when things were not. “If things were completely hopeless, I wouldn’t have asked you that question earlier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered, maybe a bit defensively.