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This story is not currently available online. When the ride got bumpy over the Adirondacks, Rachel’s hand automatically reached for the bakery box, strapped in on the seat next to…    read more

She rounded the corner into the aisle with the beer and chilled wine and almost crashed into a man holding open the flap of his parka, stuffing an inside pocket with what looked like a bottle of champagne. He was so thin and the jacket so big, that when he jerked it across his chest the bottle was swallowed up–except for a barely discernable curve of glass against nylon, invisible.