The Martini Shot Read Online Free PDF

building windows were boarded, and businesses were failing. The sale of these properties at a profit a few years later had funded bigger projects, commercial and residential, in soon-to-be-hot Shaw, Logan, and Columbia Heights. Ted had an eye for seeing the possibilities in run-down areas, while Van’s talent was in sensing when to sell at the top. Van, despite no visible signs of type-A drive, was making a small fortune as a relatively young man. He was liquid and he had real estate. He couldn’t cry poor to Eleni.
    â€œWhat are you going to do with all of our money?” she said. “Buy things? You’re not about that.”
    She was right. He was not a clotheshorse or into labels. His work truck, a two-toned Chevy Silverado, was his only vehicle.
    Eleni was similarly uninterested in material things. She had inherited a deep reserve of compassion from her parents, who had preached and practiced Christian charity throughout her childhood. Hell, Van had met her at one of those Christmas Day dinner–soup kitchen things, to which he had been dragged by a community activist he had been courting for zoning favors. The moment he saw Eleni, her hair under a scarf, an apron not even close to concealing her figure, he fell in love with her. Looks aside, it was the fact that she was there in that church basement on a cold Christmas morning, trying to reach out to people who had next to nothing, when she could have been sitting comfortably by a fire, sipping tea and opening gifts. Her obvious kindness was what closed the deal for him.
    â€œYou could do some good,” she said. “Think about the difference you’d make in some kid’s life.”
    â€œWhile he’s stealing my silverware.”
    â€œVan, come on.”
    He threw up his meaty hands in a gesture she recognized as near-surrender. “I don’t know.”
    They were seated at the kitchen table of their bungalow. Irene was in her high chair, aiming Cheerios in the general direction of her mouth. Eleni reached across the table and took one of his hands. He felt the current pass through him.
    â€œYou know what your name means?” said Eleni.
    â€œEvangelos? It means ‘big stud.’”
    â€œNo, but nice try.”
    â€œSo tell me.”
    â€œIt means ‘evangelist.’ Someone who spreads the gospel. Or, if you want to take it a little further, someone who does good.”
    â€œSo you’re sayin what?  ”
    â€œSomewhere in your past your ancestors probably adopted kids, too, I bet.”
    â€œWhen men were men and sheep were nervous.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œYou’re talking about ancient times. When guys wore metal skirts. The meaning of my name is supposed to make me go out and adopt a kid?”
    â€œHoney, let’s do this,” said Eleni. “We have the money and the opportunity. To, you know, have a reason for being here. Don’t you ever think about why we’re here?”
    â€œNot really,” said Van. “I’m not that deep.”
    She came around the table and sat on his lap and kissed him on the lips. His sudden erection was like a crowbar underneath her bottom.
    â€œYou’re right,” she said. “You’re not that deep.”
    â€œI’m not doing any of the legwork,” he said. “I got a business to run.”
    â€œI’ll take care of the details.”
    â€œI want a son,” he said, rather petulantly.
    Eleni said, “Me, too.”
    Through the recommendation of friends in their neighborhood, Eleni made an appointment with an attorney, Bill O’Leary, who specialized in adoptions. Van and Eleni met O’Leary and his assistant, a junior attorney named Donna Monroe, at O’Leary’s downscale office in Silver Spring. O’Leary seemed both distracted and intent on securing them as clients, while Monroe appeared to be more interested in exploring their motivations and needs. Eleni sensed