Thirty-Six Pages of Bank Receipts and the Chicago Mortgage Transfer I Finally Canceled
You land in Lisbon at eleven in the morning, local time.”
“Thanks, David,” I said.
“Your Chicago credentials expire at midnight on the thirty-first,” he said.
“When you land, you report straight to the office on Avenida da Liberdade.”
He looked at his phone again and nudged the printed sheet two inches closer to my hand.
“No delays on this one,” he said.
“The director of the European division expects you in the conference room Friday morning.”
I folded the itinerary in thirds and tucked it into the side pocket of my purse, right beside the heavy brass garage door opener I’d taken off my car visor that morning.
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