False Impressions Read Online Free PDF

wounds. Who knew what—or who—was important to him at this moment.
    “How did you and Mayburn decide he would work on your case?” I asked to pull my thoughts away.
    “I told John what was happening—he’s one of a handful of people I’ll talk to when I’m deeply upset.”
    I wondered who the others were.
    “And then John insisted he look into the matter,” she said.
    “Because he knows how important the gallery is to you.”
    She nodded.
    “Talking about how he feels like a brother now, when I know he didn’t feel the same, makes me sound so cavalier with my relationship with him.”
    “He was pretty hurt,” I said, then immediately regretted it. Mayburn would kill me if he’d heard me say that. “Actually he was just sorta hurt,” I said, reducing Mayburn’s pain factor.
    “Of course,” she said, shaking her head back and forth. “He had bought a house he wanted us to live in.”
    “The one in Lincoln Square.”
    “Yes. And that’s when I knew we had different ideas about what our lives would be. I’m not a Lincoln Square kind of person.”
    “I can see that.” Historically, Lincoln Square was a predominantly German neighborhood. Much of that heritage was preserved in bars like the Chicago Brauhaus and Huettenbar. The streets surrounding Lincoln Avenue, the main thoroughfare, were populated mostly with wood-frame, single family houses. Wonderful cafes from other regions, as well as cute boutiques and bookshops, now flourished there, too. Still, the hood was more “livable city” than “urban city.” Madeline Saga wasn’t the type to live there.
    “I was so shocked that he didn’t understand the life he was planning would never be me,” Madeline said. “That fact surprised me so much, hurt me so much, I just broke up with him. Just like that. And now I’m shamed by my cruelty.”
    I reached over the table. Now it was my turn to pat her hand. “Don’t worry about it. He’s wonderful. He’s got a girlfriend, the kids, and obviously he still thinks well of you since he wanted to do this job for you.”
    She looked up at me, a considering expression on her face. “John had children?” she said, the words disclosing shock.
    “No, no. He’s dating someone who has kids. She’s great. So don’t worry about him.”
    “No,” she said. “I suppose not.”
    She waved at a passing waiter who soon returned with another round of lychee martinis.
    “Tell me about you, Isabel,” Madeline said. “How do you know John?”
    I told her my fiancé had experienced “some problems.” The topic of Sam’s disappearance more than a year ago seemed a little much for our first night out, so I only disclosed that I’d met Mayburn through that situation. “Now we’re friends.”
    “He is an excellent friend.”
    I nodded.
    “And where do you live, Isabel?”
    “Old Town.” I told her about the three-flat condo building I lived in. I was on the top floor, which was a drag because of the stairs but also a joy because of the private roof deck.
    “And this…” She gestured around the bar. “Is this the type of place you would go to with friends?”
    “I grew up in Chicago. In the city. So I have an affinity for dive bars.”
    “Dive bars!” she said, sounding delighted.
    We talked about the city then, about how Chicago had changed so very much, had become, in some ways much more metropolitan, and yet it was still the same hard-working Midwest town it had always been.
    Another round of lychee cocktails appeared.
    Madeline beamed and thanked the waiter. “To Chicago.” She lifted her glass in a toast.
    I did the same. “To Chicago,” I said, clinking her glass lightly, trying not to slosh the drink. The truth was, I was getting a little sloshed.
    We both took a sip, then Madeline excused herself and left the table, heading toward the restroom. I sat and let myself just notice, as I’d watched Madeline do over the last hour or so.
    I thought about Madeline. I was impressed with the way