Defne, cold-heartedly, looked at the screen, and her thoughts threatened to blow up her brain. The beautiful female face was now the worst thing she could see. But it was on the screen. She hesitated for only a second, and then with a trembling finger, took the call and brought the phone to her ear.
- Omer! - the worried voice of Iz sounded from it. - Where did you go? You came out in the morning from my apartment and seemed to sink into the water. I'm worried.
The world turned upside down. Deception ... everything that happened yesterday ... his confessions, kisses, tenderness, and passion ... all deception. Why, Almighty? What for?!!! After all, she had already resigned herself ... Why did he give hope again? To finish her off?
- Hello! - sounded from the phone. - Omer ?! Omer, why are you silent?
Defne swallowed and answered deafly:
- Omer can't answer. He is in the shower ...
- Defne? - Iz's voice has changed. Become bewildered and low. "Have you flown to Marseille?" A good idea...
"No," Defne cut her off abruptly. - Omer flew to Istanbul.
- Really?! I can't believe it. So you reconciled? I am glad.
Iz tried very hard to portray joy, but Defne distinctly heard the bitterness in her voice.
"No," she objected. - We aren't reconciled. It's just ... circumstances brought me to Omer's house.
"He couldn't forgive, right?" - Iz said quietly and sighed. - This is Omer. He does not give anyone a second chance. Cut off a person, removes the ring and leaves.
- The ring? - Defne was shocked. - What do you mean? Why did you say about the ring?
"But you did have a wedding." On June 16th. An invitation came to me ... And suddenly the seventeenth Omer flies to Marseille, appears in my apartment, gloomy, angry without a ring on his finger. Says nothing, just asks for a drink ...
"Appears in the Iz's apartment? ... without a ring on the finger? ... Again a lie! When did you forget about your principles and learned to lie, Omer Iplikci? Or have you always been like that and your ideality is just a mask, and I'm the naive fool who took it at face value? What else is a lie? "- thoughts were bitter and choked with tears.
- Iz, I'm sorry, I can't talk. Call Omer later.
Defne pressed the red dot to end the call and gently put the phone in place. Wrapped in a sheet, she got out of bed and slowly walked to the window. Behind the glass, the morning sun shone and flowers bloomed brightly in the garden. The very ones that she planted, after an overheard conversation of Omer with Fikret. He then so beautifully described with words his love for her, Defne. Were these words a lie too?
She wanted to cry. Her eyes were burning and a bitter lump in her throat did not allow her to breathe, but Defne held back tears. She will never again show her weakness and will not cry before Omer. Never.
Thinking that Defne was still asleep and not wanting to disturb her, Omer, dressed in one towel around the waist, quietly opened the door and, stepping entered the room.
But the bed was empty. His wife, wrapped in a sheet and holding it on her chest with her hands, stood by the window. So exquisitely graceful and touching. Dark blue silk tightly wrapped around her chest and waist and went down to the floor with beautiful, wide folds. Her tangled copper hair lay on the snow-white shoulders. She was so beautiful that Omer caught his breath and a fire began to burn in his groin. Seeing nothing around except for her thin figure, he went up and hugged her. Kissing a warm shoulder, he whispered hotly in her ear:
"You woke up ... How good!" Let's forget everyone and go back to bed.
He tried to turn Defne's face and kiss her lips, but she twisted from his arms and pulled away. Without looking into Omer's eyes, she said:
- I need a shower. And you have to go to work.
Omer caught her and wrapped her in a hug again.
"Allah Allah," wailing jokingly, hid her in his arms and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. - I married the cruelest girl in the world. She doesn't love me at all.
"Do you love me?" Shouted everything inside, but Defne silently removed his hands and went to the door of the bedroom.
"Defne," Omer's voice behind her sounded guarded.
- Is everything okay?
Without turning, she nodded her head and left. And only in the shower, making the water as hot as possible, gave vent to tears. She believed again ... and again made a mistake. Her life doesn't teach her anything.
Omer looked in bewilderment after his wife. What's the matter with her? At night she was like a living fire, and in the morning turned into an ice cube.
Allah! Yes, she is embarrassed. His shy girl!
Smiling, he decided to himself that shyness should be fought, but gradually. Now he will give her time to get used to the idea that he is her husband and making love - it is wonderful and nothing to be ashamed of. Biting his lip, Omer exhaled and went to get dressed.
He prepared breakfast, set the table, and Defne still didn't come down. Measuring the living room with steps, Omer pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch. After half an hour, he needs to go to work, but he still didn't see his wife. He didn't see enough, didn't breathe, and didn't get energized by her. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he called out loudly:
- Defne! Where did you go? Breakfast is getting cold.
The bedroom door slammed and she appeared on the stairs.
Wearing jeans and a simple T-shirt with hair tied in a ponytail, Defne looked more like a teenage girl than the wife of the owner of a huge company. But Omer could not take his eyes off her. And he felt out of place in his expensive and impeccable suit. While Defne was descending the stairs, he had the thought of forgetting everything, changing into jeans, putting Defne in the car and rushing away from Istanbul. To the mountains. The thought was very tempting, but sober reasoning crushed it. Passionis needed his creative director. He ignored work for an unacceptably long time, and this could be a blow to the firm. He will tolerate it until the weekend. Just some three days.
Defne went down the stairs and walked past to the dining table.
- Hey! - Omer was indignant. "And the morning kiss?"
He caught up with her and bent to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her head away and the kiss fell on her cheek.
"You said breakfast was getting cold," she recalled and sat down at the table.
"You are right," Omer agreed easily, and before he sat down in his place, he poured tea into a fine glass and stirred sugar in it.
His concern made her sick. Defne picked up a fork and stuck it in an omelet. Appetizing in appearance, it tasted to her like wood sawdust. She swallowed half of her portion with difficulty and picked up
her glass of tea. The aromatic drink was exactly the way she loved - strong and sweet. It calmed the shaky nerves and the rebellious stomach a little. Wiping her lips with a napkin, she looked at Omer. He ate with great appetite and looked cheerful and contented with life.
"When you were in the shower, Iz called you," she said, lowering her eyes and staring at the contents of the plate. - I answered.
- Iz? - Omer was surprised. "And what did she want?"
"You don't make yourself known." She is worried, - calmly, too calmly, Defne answered.
Omer slapped his hand on his forehead.
- Heck! Right. I completely forgot about her. Okay, I'll call her later, - putting down his plate, he took a cup of coffee. Taking a sip, he closed his eyes for a second and sighed with satisfaction. Drink of the gods! Putting the cup on the saucer, he spoke again:
"I have a meeting in the morning." Then some urgent business. Just to manage with it - I'm coming home right away. On the way, I'll drop into an Italian supermarket, buy everything I need for my famous spaghetti and something tasty for you. "He reached across the table with his hand and, taking her chin, raised her face to him. He looked into her eyes and smiled: - What does your soul want?
"Nothing," Defne turned her head and Omer removed his hand. He frowned and, looking inquiringly into her face, asked:
- Defne, is everything all right?
- Is there any reason not to be? - looking into his eyes, she answered with a counter-question.
- Not.
- So it's all good.
She spoke these words, and her heart ached and torn apart in still fresh, barely healed wounds.
Inside Omer, a worm of anxiety stirred. That's not how he imagined this morning. He expected Defne to be a cute purring kitten, but an independent cat sat in front of him. She looked coldly with her amber eyes and didn't let him near her. And yet he cast aside doubts. After all, everything is fine. Defne believed him and surrendered herself with body and soul. Their night was beautiful. Thousands of days and nights lie ahead. He will give her so much love and tenderness that the wary cat will disappear and his Defne will turn again into a cute redhead kitten. His kitten, which he will indulge and pamper.
From the hallway, a characteristic sound of unlocking a door lock and men's steps were heard. Sukru, with a big box in his hands, appeared in the dining room and, smiling guilty, spoke:
- Good morning, Mr.Omer, Defne! Enjoy your meal! I apologize for interfering. But Zehra today couldn't come ... The daughter-in-law fell ill. She went to her. But she made dinner. Here, everything is in the box.
"All right, Sukru, everything is fine," Omer reassured him. - Let the daughter-in-law recover. He pointed with his hand to the kitchen counter. - Put the box there and wait for me by the car. I'll be out in ten minutes.
Sukru fulfilled the request, once again smiled warmly at silent Defne, and left the house.
She got up and began to collect the dishes, but Omer stopped her. He came up and hugged her as he wanted all morning - closely, firmly, pressing her in himself and putting his cheek to her temple. Her body tensed and her narrow palms tried to push him away, but Omer only clasped his hands more tightly.
"Don't pull away," he ordered. "I just want to recharge." Breathe in your smell, "he deeply inhaled in with his nose," and to come to terms with the thought that I won't be able to see you for several hours. "
Defne gritted her teeth. She wanted to scream, to tell everything in his face. To say that she knows about his lies. That she was killed by it. That her heart is crushed again and does not bleed, but loses a life. She wanted to ask - why is he doing this? He's talking about love without feeling it. To saves a family that isn't real. Out of pity? Or him feeling guilty? Or he just wants her body. But she doesn't need either the one, another, or a third.
She needs love. Big, real, unconditional. So that among all the others he chooses her, and only her. To make her necessary, like air.
Тhe way she loves him...
But pride demanded to be silent, and she was silent. She just froze in his hands.
"Kiss me," Omer asked hoarsely.
He loosened his arms a little and Defne, throwing her head back looked into his face. A beautiful, painfully dear and beloved face. She will never again have the opportunity - like this, close, to see him ...
And hell, she wants that kiss. Last one.
Defne rose to her toes and, clutching the man's neck with her palms, pulled his head to her and pressed her mouth to his smelling of coffee lips. She kissed him with a desperate passion and enjoyed every moment. Captured him in her memory and her heart. For life. A long, endlessly dreary and lonely life without him.
She already knew that she was leaving. Forever and ever. And finally gave herself a piece of bitter happiness.
And Omer was on fire. He first saw such Defne - bold, passionate, desperate. She was both warm honey, hot pepper, and prickly, icy hoarfrost. He was drowning in this fiery sweetness and ice crumbs. He was ready to give his soul in another moment. For Defne and her love.
She pulled away, but Omer, as bewitched, reached for her lips, caught them with his own, kissed them. A narrow palm rested on his chest.
"You have to go," Defne said quietly. "Ten minutes have passed."
"I don't give a damn," he snuggled up against her neck. His voice, velvety, intermittent, fascinated and seduced. - Let's go upstairs. I want to love you...
Hot lips touched the soft skin and in these places it caught fire. Defne closed her eyes. A hurricane of emotions bubbled inside her. She loved ... Allah, how she loved! And she hated it. For his lies. For the desire. For calling it so beautifully - to love. This word cut the air and turned her soul. Be in love. Is it love?
Defne nevertheless managed to get out of his hands and stepped back a couple of steps.
"You have an important meeting today," she reminded him.
- To hell with it! - Omer answered. He took Defne by the shoulders and stared hotly into her eyes. "I'm leaving, and you go to bed and get enough sleep." Because tonight I will not let you fall asleep.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Defne fell to the floor like a clipped stem. She did not cry, only hugged her shoulders with her hands and pulled her knees to her chest, cringed into a ball. The phone rang. Defne slowly rose to her feet and went to answer it.
"I'm listening," she said in a strange, muffled voice into the blue screen of her mobile.
"Mrs.Defne, this is Fatima," the female voice chattered. "You called about the apartment yesterday morning." So what will you rent it, or not? And then there is no end to those who wish. Well, such a place! The apartment is furnished, with dishes. Even the washing machine and the TV is ...
"I will," Defne interrupted the stream of words. "I'll be there in two hours."
She laid the phone on the table and walked to the kitchen counter. She took out food containers from the box and put them in the refrigerator. Washed the dishes and wandered upstairs. She threw clothes, a pair of shoes and other trifles into a large bag. On the doorstep of the bedroom, she looked around. The bed was unmade. Crumpled sheets screamed for a stormy night. She jerked to straighten them and make the bed, but then stopped. She turned away, proudly raised her head and went out the door.
Downstairs she pulled out a piece of paper from a notebook and wrote a few words on it. Then she took her drawings and went into the living room. She laid them on the table, on top lay Proust's "The Missing Albertine ", a white scrap of paper and a key. Then she turned on the phone and added Omer to the blacklist. So that is all. It's time to go. From this house, this world ... from the life of Omer.
She didn't look back anymore. She walked toward the door confidently and only her pursed lips and dry, burning eyes showed what was happening now in her heart.
Defne did not take a taxi. Indifferently looked around the row of yellow cars, and went to the bus stop.
The bus was crowded, stuffy and hot. Her bag interfered with everyone, and her pallor and a sickly look annoyed passengers. Some burly aunt, who took almost two seats with her torso, looked disapprovingly at the thin girl and said indignantly that the sick should be at home, not to travel in public transport with bags. Defne from the past would now flare up and scandal the boorish woman, but the current one only looked indifferently and gripped the handrail with fingers.
The street on which stood the house Defne was looking for seemed to be an exact copy of her former neighborhood. The same jagged asphalt on the road. Wooden, painted green and brown, two-story houses. Flowers on the windowsills and a lot of cats.
She found the right house and rang the doorbell on the ground floor apartment. A restless woman opened the door.
- Are you Defne Topal? - she was surprised.
"Yes," Defne answered.
The woman examined her from head to toe and grimaced disapprovingly.
- I thought you would be more representative. Come on in.
The girl entered the apartment and looked around. Small, dirty and somehow dull. It did not at all look like her grandmother's cozy house, but the rent was acceptable, and there was neither time nor effort to look for something else.
"Look," meanwhile, the hostess was proudly lifting her nose. - The kitchen is there. Near the bathroom. The living room is small, but enough for you. Here is the bedroom. "She opened the far door. There was a narrow bed, an old wardrobe, a chest of drawers with a mirror upstairs, and a bedside table. - Bedsheets and towels in the chest of drawers. You will pay the rent on the third day of each month. Now pay a month in advance.
Defne took the money out of her purse and handed them to the woman. She grabbed them, counted them with lightning speed and hid them in the pocket of her long woolen sweater.
- I'll warn you again - do not turn on the TV loudly. Save gas. And do not invite men into the house. I find out - I will kick you out.
"Can my brother come to the apartment?" - Defne asked ironically.
The woman did not hear this irony and graciously permitted:
- Your brother may. But no other men! I have decent apartments. "She importantly lifted her nose and stuck her chin forward. "I live on the next street, so I know everything." Do not try to fool me.
Defne suddenly became amused by these intimidations.
She lost everything. Love, family ... life. Is there anything in the world that can scare her?
Closing the door behind the mistress, Defne called her brother Serdar. Without going into details, she said that she had left Omer and rented an apartment for herself. She asked quietly from her relatives to collect her things and bring them to her. Just don't say anything to grandma yet. She will do it when she is ready.
Serdar did not question her or persuade. Only answered:
- Good, Ginger. This "redhead" gave strength. Defne looked at the dull apartment and went for water and rags. Gritting her teeth, she washed the windows, shook the curtains and rugs on the tiny porch, knocked out pillows. With manic perseverance, she rubbed to shine utensils and furniture, cleaned the cobwebs and furiously scrubbed the floor.
When, after a couple of hours, the doorbell rang, the apartment glowed with a mirror-like glow, and its sad tenant, clutching her hands between her knees, sat on the couch and looked detachedly at her work. Waking up, she went to open. Serdar and round, like a balloon, Nihan, entered the apartment. Throwing the bags on the floor, her brother looked into Defne's eyes and silently opened his arms to her. She dove into them, pressed against his warm chest, and burst into tears like a little girl. She mourned and let go of her past life - childhood, home, love and ... Omer.
Later, the three of them sat in the tiny kitchen. They drank the tea from the shiny glasses and kept silent. On the table were glass bowls with grandmother's dolma and milk baklava. Nihan brazenly lied to the old lady that she and Serdar were going to visit the sick cousin, and she immediately loaded them with food.
"Girl, will you finally tell me what happened?" Nihan broke the silence.
Defne raised her tormented eyes and shook her head.
- Nothing ... You can't glue what's shattered. It's time for me to understand this and start a new life.
Serdar put money on the table.
- Here. Take it for a start.
Defne shook her head and answered fiercely:
- Don't! You need them. Grandmother, Esra, Nihan ... Soon a child will appear ... Serdar, I will not fail!
- Take the money! - Nihan resolutely handed them to her. "You for the sake of Serdar ... sacrificed everything." I have a debt to you. Let us take care of you now.
Defne pressed her forehead to Nihan's shoulder and cried. Serdar got up from his seat, hugged both and shouted:
- Stop crying! Everything is fine with us. We will make it!
***
From the morning, Omer set the work at a frantic pace. As he promised to Defne, he was in a hurry to deal with all matters, and quickly escape home. The boss worked like an obsessed one and drove everyone around. Poor Derya twitched every time the internal telephone rang on her desk. She did not have time to complete the previous task, when Mr.Omer, impatiently frowning, gave the following. Koray, hissing at everyone around him, hesitated in front of Omer's office and finally decided to drop by. Having taken the form of a cat, who was given a slap for the stolen kebabs, he opened the door and stuck his head there.
- Omushh! He held out whiningly. - Are you still angry with me? I swear they made me ...
- Koray, go to work! Omer barked and looked so that the photographer pulled his head into his shoulders and immediately evaporated.
- What did you say to him? - laughing Sinan looked at the trail of Koray and entered the remaining open door.
- The same as I tell you - get down to work! Snapped Omer.
- Oh! - Sinan feigned cringe. - Don't look that way - all my thoughts will freeze!
- Are you here on business? - cut off his playful tone Omer.
He was tired of these idle visits and talk about nothing. He wanted to get even with work and rush home like a bullet. To Defne. Her morning kiss stayed in him and turned the body into stone. An aching stone from desire. Memories of her graceful, delicate body responded with sweet cramps in the lower abdomen. He wanted her and his patience came close to the limit.
- Omer! - In front of his eyes appeared a male hand with clicking fingers. - Hello! What are you thinking about?
- Ah? What did you say? - He woke up from prostration.
- I say - I've come to the case! - Sinan fell into a visitor chair and threw his head back. - First. We need a creative director. How do you look at inviting Iz to this post again?
- Iz? - surprised Omer. - And she wants to?
- Already wants to. I spoke to her an hour ago. She proposed her candidacy.
"So that's why she called in the morning?" - extended Omer. "I was in the shower, Defne answered." I was about to call back but forgot. If she wants - no problem. We can't find a better creator.
- Well! - Sinan was delighted. A huge chunk of problems fell from his shoulders, which made him extremely happy. - I'll call and say let her take a ticket to Istanbul. - Second question. A competition between Turkish shoe manufacturers has been announced. Award - the winner will represent Turkey at the European shoe festival. Hope I don't need to explain WHAT does this mean?
Тhere was no need to explain this to Omer. The European Shoe Festival is held every four years. This is the largest and most prestigious shoe fair. Participation in it is a guarantee of reaching the world level. The last time Passionis lost by Tranba. But this time, Omer Iplikci was not going to give him such a chance.
- What is required of me?
- Eight pairs of shoes. Four are fall-winter, and four are spring-summer. Concept: The world at the feet of a woman.
"An interesting concept," Omer thought for a moment. The idea reflected his desire to lay the world at Defne's feet. - What are the deadlines?
- A month. On September 28, sketches should be provided to the Committee. I have already applied. The festival itself will be held in Milan at the end of October.
"There will be sketches," Omer promised firmly. - Get ready for the trip to Milan.
"I recognize my brother!" - Sinan laughed and winked: - You say the muse is back?
Omer, trying to hide a contented smile, bit his lip. But his eyes, full with desire, betrayed him head-on. She's back! Gosh, how she came back! And it doesn't matter that today she again ignores his calls. Ahead is the evening ... and night.
"Go to work already," he sends Sinan out, but he answered with an understanding grin.
- I envy you, brother! Where is my fate straying? It walks somewhere and does not appear in front of my eyes.
- Will appear, brother, will appear!
- Omer leaned across the table and patted his friend on the shoulder, and then jokingly hit his fist: - Go, for the sake of Allah! Let me finish the job. Or else I will explode and everyone will have to hide!
- Good good! - Sinan raised his hands and got up from his chair.
- I'm leaving! Say hello to Defne.
"Absolutely," leaning over the folder of documents, muttered Omer.
At four o'clock, he returned the folder to Derya, dictated the last letter, and finally got up from the table. His back ached and demanded physical activity. Omer smiled wryly. Tonight he was going to provide this load to the whole his body.
Removing the jacket from the hanger, Omer put his hands in its sleeves and noticed Derya staring at him with her eyes wide open.
- Are you leaving already? - escaped from her lips.
"You wonder or rejoice," he asked ironically.
"I am glad," she blurted out, and immediately closed her mouth with her hand. Her eyes became even larger and fright reflected in them.
"I wouldn't be in a hurry if I were you," the boss advised her.
- Documents that are in the folder, put in the registry, scan and sent to the recipients. And make me a report on the results of sales.
- Today? - Derya extended disappointedly.
"Today," Omer announced the verdict.
Her lips formed a resentful grimace, but the boss did not see this anymore. Ignoring the assistant, he walked out of the office with a sweeping gait.
In an Italian gourmet store, Omer bought spaghetti, cream sauce, Parmesan cheese and white mushrooms, the name of which Italians pronounce with a respectful aspiration - porcini. Once he cooked risotto for Defne with them and she liked it. Today he was going to cook spaghetti with creamy mushroom sauce.
The next department on his list was a pastry shop. He went to a showcase, shining, full of all kinds of goodies and desserts. Eyes full of a huge selection and he, not wanting to spend time on a long choice, took Panna Cotta. He imagined how he would feed Defne this frozen tenderness, and then kiss the lips smelling of cream and vanilla.
The heart began to beat faster and blood ran faster in the veins. Loosening his tie, Omer hurried to the checkout counter. Oh heck! How to survive another half hour on the way home?
Sukru stopped the car near the house and offered the boss to help bring purchases inside. But Omer refused and ordered the faithful driver to put the car in the garage and go home.
Holding paper bags with one hand, Omer entered the house and went straight to the kitchen. Putting the purchases on the rack, he listened. The house was too quiet and gloomy. A feeling of worry appeared inside him, but he hushed it and headed straight for his office. He opened the door and stopped. It is empty and dark. Anxiety began to grow and fill his chest. He swiftly turned and ran upstairs. Opening doors, he checked the rooms, but his wife was nowhere to be found. He stopped at the top of the stairs and shouted:
- Defne !!!In response, silence. His voice and steps were the only things that violated it sleepy serenity.
He scooted off the stairs and ran out into the garden.
- Defne !!!He rushed around the yard and garden, shouting her name again and again:
- Defne !!! Defne !!! Defne !!!!!!
She was not there. Nowhere. Anxiety filled his chest to the brim and turned into a desperate fear that did not allow air to penetrate the lungs. Omer covered his face with his hands and groaned painfully.
Gone ...
But why???!!!!
What did he do wrong?
Pulling his hands off his face, he grabbed the phone from his pocket and called her. Long beeps went one after another, but there was no answer. He called again. And again. Third, fourth ... tenth time. Defne did not answer. Shouting, he squeezed the telephone in his palm and ran into the house.
Now, looking carefully at the bedroom, dressing room and bathroom, he saw something that he hadn't noticed before - the toothbrush, Defne's hairbrush, her cream, tablet, and some clothes disappeared. Ordinary, the one that she bought herself. His proud girl took none of what he bought for her.
Dying from despair and fear, Omer went down to the living room. And saw. There, on the table ... He came closer. On the top was the key to the house. The same one that Defne had from the first day of her work as his assistant. It always stayed with her. Even during quarrels and partings.
Beneath the key lay a piece of paper, Proust's - The Missing Albertine and Defne's sketches.
Omer understood - these aren't just things. This is the life that Defne left behind.
She cut him off from herself.
Omer picked up the sheet. On white matte paper, with Defne's neat handwriting he read:
"Did not work out. Goodbye..."
Clutching the note in his fist, Omer fell to his knees and screamed.
Serdar and Nihan left. Defne paced her new home and felt herself losing her mind. She always lived in a family. Not perfect, but funny, noisy and caring. Where she felt needed and loved. Now, for the first time in her life, she was alone. Loneliness crushed and the walls, bumping into each other, tightened around her in a ring.
It was necessary to occupy her hands and head with something. The first thing that came to her mind was drawing. But all drawing supplies remained in Omer's house.
Without thinking twice, Defne grabbed her purse and left the house in search of a supermarket.
Not noticing the prying eyes of her neighbors, she walked along a narrow street. Dwelling houses were replaced by cafes and shops. On one of them flaunted a bright sign against the backdrop of a tremendous pencil: Stationery.
Defne hurried straight to it. And then her gaze caught on another, black and white and unremarkable:
The layer's services.High-quality and inexpensive.
She stopped and frowned. She needs a lawyer. But is quality inexpensive? And she answered herself:
"What's the difference? Even a law student can issue divorce papers."
She shook her head and resolutely went to the plain door.