1
Sheila inspected the heavy dark beams and white plaster of the restaurant. A hostess—in a bad Bavarian costume of ruffled sleeves, low-cut above blousy, cotton-cupped breasts—smiled at her as she sashayed across the hardwood floor in incongruous heels.
“Table for one?” Just one notch too perky for her to swallow.
“No, thanks. Just looking in.” Sheila turned abruptly and nearly trampled a couple and their kids coming in the door. Civilians! Too close! She kept the epithet to herself and stepped around them and back out into the crisp darkness.
To her left was the snow sprinkled faux-Bavarian town of Leavenworth, Washington, so perfect it was like a goddamn life-sized snow globe. To her right was a McDonald’s with a wood and plaster Germanic facade. She’d promised herself that she’d do
