Memories of Love [antikvár]

Prologue January 1 Matthew Jonas didn't believe in good-byes. He'd done a fair amount of traveling in his thirty-five years, and he'd run into somé of the most unlikely people in somé of the least likely places. Just within the last six months he'd chanced to meet a boyhood chum in Beirút, his college journalism professor in Johannesburg, and a retired clergyman, who'd been one of his grandfather's cronies, in Corfu, so while he had good reason not to believe in good-byes, what he did believe was that the airport of nearly any major city provided a window on the world. Matt was, first and foremost, a reálist, but he knew with a certainty that bordered on the mystical that if a man cared to spend enough time in any large airport, he would see virtually everyone he'd ever known. Because of this conviction, he shouldn't have been surprised when he saw Paige Cavanaugh at San Franciscoi International Airport, but he was. In fact, to