Watching her walk into the terminal, seeing her after twenty years apart, was like watching a stranger but with the
characteristics of someone with whom she was once familiar. Barely over the height of a broom handle and just as thin,
walking in stiletto heels, carrying a multi-colored hand bag large enough to carry a week's worth of laundry, wearing sun
glasses that covered what her bleached hair had left exposed, Nyala wondered if what she had planned was going to be the
best idea she'd ever had concerning the two of them. She couldn't move. She just sat and watched her friend from
childhood walk in shoes, considered by most to be as lethal as any .45, as though she knew whoever was coming for her
would know who she was by her presence and thereby saw no need to announce herself to anyone. After all, she was the
wife of Mr. Lawrence David Harrison, Attorney, stock broker, entrepreneur and one of the wealthiest men currently existing
in Boston.
