I leaned one shoulder against the pantry door. “I believe. he’s been fully forthcoming.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“He told you about Henri and 2006.” Eamon sipped his tea. “He has not told you what he thinks about what Henri actually wants and what he will settle for.”
“He doesn’t know that,” I said.
Eamon’s expression remained calm. “Ask him specifically.”
Across the room, Luca was drying last night’s Burgundy glasses with a dish towel. He was trying not to watch us and doing a poor job of it.
I said, “You made that assessment in ten minutes.”
Eamon sipped his tea again. “No. In about four.”
He remained in the kitchen for another half hour and then took a quiet walk through the ground floor with me. At the front door, he paused and looked back toward the kitchen.
“The kitchen matters,” he said. “Pay attention to what happens in there.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I let that go. Next, he looked me up and down.
“Are all your shirts like that?”
“I packed for a long weekend.”
“But the assignment changed. It would be good for you to plausibly pass for a local.”
Twenty minutes later, Luca was ready to head out the front door with me, perhaps a little too eager for a shopping excursion on Magazine Street. Eamon would stay behind at the house with Dominic.
Dominic reappeared on his way to the salon before we left. “Luca will prevent you from buying something bleak.”
I elected to drive the SUV and avoid some of the oppressive heat. Luca sat in the passenger seat with sunglasses in place and one forearm braced casually against the window.
The shop he chose was narrow, cool, and curated without fuss. Jackets lined one wall. Shirts another. The proprietor took one look at me and produced my approximate size before I said a word. Subtle competence was the perfect way to get my attention.
“This way,” he said.
I tried on a pale blue dress shirt in front of a three-paneled mirror. It sat correctly across the shoulders. Excellent line. Clean waist. No unnecessary structure.
I was still evaluating the fit when Luca stepped in front of me and adjusted the collar with both hands. His fingers were quick and sure. The proprietor saw the gesture and found something urgent to do in the back room.
Luca stepped away and considered me. “Better. You have an unfair advantage,” he said.
“In shirts?”
“In shoulders.”
I looked at my reflection, then at him. “And you’re sure about the blue?”
“Shirts are public statements in August.”
“That I own sleeves?”
