“Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. He used to call it his fire-escape—ha! ha! I've often used the ladder for my own convenience, but I never expected to turn it to such good account. Fiercely defensive, as usual. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. “Anna of course would not accept any money from us,” she continued. ‘Not kill me, I mean. Prison was beastly. Shari regaled Lucy with soap operatic tales of boy-girl intrigues at the high school, then spoke of her aspirations for the future.
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