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the main pavilion where her father was laughing with his partners.
“Are we going home tomorrow, Mommy?” Emma asked, her voice small.
“Yes,” I said, wiping a spot of condensation from my water glass. “We are going back to Savannah.”
I took my phone from my purse and sent a single text to Joseph Vance, telling him to have the legal draft ready for my signature continue reading …
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