[Continued from The Founders Ball]

Mr. Meijer. Not Mr. Meijer. Horrible situation he had gotten into, and barely out alive. He was starting to wonder if the fates had it out for him.

He squeezed his hand, enthusiastic and perhaps a touch anxious, though his smile was friendly.

“It was a terrible situation, and I’m glad it was kept from growing worse.”

‘No, just the woman that would kill one,’ he managed not to say and smiled wide instead as she introduced herself.

“A Mr. Menachem Meijer,” he introduced, patting him on the shoulder. “A man who makes up for his terrible luck with a fantastic sense of humor.”