Mr. Hunt reluctantly stepped away from the desk, not even closing the drawer as he walked away. “That would be especially helpful, I appreciate your willingness. Not everyone nowadays is dedicated to keeping our city safe.” His voice got quieter, more distant, before it echoed into the hallway, words disintegrating into mumbling patterns.
That was close. Too close for comfort. I could feel the absence of blood making my head light, my neck cold.
I clutched the folder with sweaty palms, tipping my head back just for it to knock against the wood of the desk.
It was over, I could rest. I could lay my worries to die.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Performer
Central Park was for stealing moments with nature between all the brick and concrete. You could almost forget you were in the city if it weren’t for the tall buildings watching over the green space.
The season was maturing, the sun luring out every body in Manhattan. You started to truly believe that three million people somehow lived here on days like these.
The fresh air mingled with the passing smells of perfume, horses, or a pipe. The trees shimmered, the cherry trees and the magnolias dancing above. Sunlight filtered through the greener trees, painting splotches of light along the dirt footpath. You could see every cloud of dust kicked up by hoof or shoe, beating the path we walked along.
It was the perfect day to be an ice-cream man, handing out cool glass cones and fresh vanilla cream. The cafés were busy, leeching customers from the crowd that gathered to listen to the music coming from the gazebo—there would be several concerts, luckily not all so close in vicinity. The sheep were out today, grazing and gathering under trees in the meadow as their shepherd stood by. The menagerie would be open by now, and sometimes you could hear the song of a loose peacock roaming about. No matter how they tried, the pigeons and peacocks were impossible to contain.
“How about here?” Arkady’s voice broke the surface of my thoughts.
I squeezed his arm, readjusting my parasol to follow his pointing. There was a free space in the grass just along the perimeter of a pond, shaded by a looming tree.
We settled down, laying out a blanket and opening our picnic basket.
“What a hassle, we are lucky to get a free space with this crowd.” I sat down on the blanket, folding my parasol beside me.
“Focus on the positives. It’s a beautiful day, the activity is good for you, and the sun will give you some extra energy.” He began to take out some strawberries we’d bought at the market, as well as some cheeses, crackers, and a small jar of marmalade.
I watched the field, picking absently at the cubed cheese. Blankets dotted the green space like clover buds in late summer. Even with the park’s natural beauty, the most interesting thing about it would always be the company. Couples sharing lunch, not unlike us. Groups of girls gathered, parasols planted in the grass to shade them from the sun. Kids running around a leisurely mother. Some of the loiterers were familiar.
“Look.” I nudged Arkady, taking a bite from a strawberry before tilting my head. “Do you see the couple? Five blankets away, blue pinstripes?”
He leaned back on his hand to look past me, legs crossing as they were outstretched. “The couple? Middle-aged?”
I nodded, scooting closer to him while glancing in their direction. “They’re patrons—werepatrons of mine.”
“The two of them?” His brow creased.
“Yes”—I smirked—“except neither of them knew.”
His brow raised high, and he offered a small smirk of his own. “And how is that?”
“They would never come at the same time; neither of them knew the other was visiting the ballet. It was phenomenal. I wondered when the day would come that they both arrived on the same night and discovered they were hiding the same secret.”
“It sounds a bit messy”—he took a bite out of a cracker—“and unnecessary.”
“Many things, especially in my circle, are unnecessary.” I laughed, picking at some of the other berries. “Some days it feels like strange and unusual punishments. The customs, the socializing, the rules.”
“The rules?”
“Just the act of remembering them all. The goalpost moves by the day, it’s hard to keep up with.”
“Is that why you insisted we didn’t go so early?”
“A habit.” I shrugged. “First meal shouldn’t come until ten or after.”
“Is that really a rule?”
