By the time Kit was ready to face Margo with something approaching calm, the “night” had advanced fairly far. Two additional gates had cycled: Edo and Primary. He’d listened to the familiar announcements regarding gate departures while brooding over his bourbon and marshalling his arguments. Significantly, none of his friends even approached his table. Kit finally left the Down Time and brushed through a crowd of new arrivals gawking at the Commons. When he arrived at his apartment Kit drew a deep breath, then unlocked the door. He expected to find her sulking on the couch. He didn’t.
Margo wasn’t there at all. Her things were gone.
All he found was a scrawled note.
Sorry for all the trouble. It hasn’t been fun. I won’t be troubling you again. Margo.
Kit crumpled the note in his hand.
Then he sank down onto the couch and cried:
* * *
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Margo felt free, absolutely and utterly free, for the first time in her life. Goldie Morran was a true savior. After a quick week up time learning to fly the latest ultralight craze, she’d returned to TT-86 with a load of very specialized equipment all paid for by Goldie. The currency expert had trusted her judgement, relied implicitly on her training, her skills. That alone had been worth all the heartache of the miserable, terrifying week alone in Rome.
Margo had put hours of planning into this, deciding what to take, how to tackle the problem of overland journey and return, selecting equipment; then came the marvelous moment when she stepped through the gate into the twilight of early evening. Two hired hands trailed after her, hauling equipment.