9
As Andrea drove back toward San Francisco, she couldn’t get past that final gesture that Megan Connelly had made so effortlessly.
Fly.
She glanced at Ayres and Klass Studies in Contract Law squatting on the passenger seat like an angry troll under a bridge…and looked away quickly.
Rather than driving up the coast, she’d taken the scenic and the slowest route along Highway 9 that climbed up and down over the redwood-studded hills all the way from Santa Cruz towards Cupertino. She’d flown over much of this territory, but never given much thought to what was on the ground.
Now she couldn’t think of anything else. Not the horses and trees, not the brooks and sunbeams. What she couldn’t get over was the view of the sky, revealed fresh around each corner and over each crest. It was like s
