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Summary
"I am so sorry," a voice yelps from behind her. "I did not—I mean—"
"Perhaps you should—" Michaela starts to admonish her attacker, whirling around to face them, but the words sputter and die in her throat before she can finish.
Michaela must admit she recognizes most of the women here. Many of them, intimately. She has already lost count of the married women who have flushed and avoided her eyeline, and she has not even been here ten minutes.
But Michaela knows she has never met this woman. She is positive, because she would have remembered meeting an angel.
OR
Michaela and Francesca are forced to choose between love and loyalty.