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Page 257
Chapter Twelve
Mike was exhausted. He'd been staring at the same ledger page for the last ten minutes. The only light in the office was from the fixtures overhead; it was after nine o'clock.
But he had accounts to finish, taxes to tabulate. Then he would be done. He could go home to Abby.
Abby. She was beautiful. She had saved his life twice, had foreseen the fire that almost took hers. She had told him she had special powers, and clearly she did. Hadn't she shared his hallucination? They had both seen through the other's eyes, felt what the other felt.
And if she also told him she had been born 159 years ago, that she had trekked across country on a wagon train with his ancestors, that she had tasted the recipes he used to start Arlen's Kitchens more than a century before he was born, well, then she had, journals or not.

 
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