After stopping by to grab the picnic basket, they stepped outside, greeted by the warm, sunny day. Rambo trotted ahead, stopping every few feet to inspect and sniff during their leisurely stroll to the park.
“I’ve been giving some thought to the semi-retirement conversation we’ve been having.”
Carlita shot him a side glance. “You have?”
“I think after the holidays it’s time for us to pull the trigger.”
“You made my day,” she sang.
Pete shifted the picnic basket to his other arm and reached for her hand. “Let’s make a list of everything we want to do.”
“An epic dream vacation or finally starting the garden I’ve been promising myself. I know.” Carlita’s eyes lit. “What if we pack up, hop in the truck and take a road trip? I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon.”
“We had better do it now, before we’re too old or too tired. This looks like an ideal lunch spot.” Pete spread the blanket out and placed the picnic basket on top. “I’ll confess, I have no idea what’s in here. I told the cook to surprise us.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious.” Carlita removed a flask of chilled water and poured two glasses while Pete emptied the contents.
Ham and cheese on sweet roll sliders, creamy coleslaw, potato salad, sliced dill pickles along with an assortment of cookies—frosted sugar, peanut butter, and chocolate chip.
Carlita’s stomach grumbled. “I’m starving.” She filled her plate and settled in next to her husband to enjoy their meal.
Rambo, who had wandered off to investigate, returned when he noticed them eating.
“I can only give you a small bite of ham.” Pete plucked a piece from his sandwich and fed it to the pup.
Carlita tipped the basket, noticing a small plastic container wedged in the corner. “I see hard-boiled eggs.” She promptly removed one and held out half.
Rambo snatched it from her fingers, inhaling it in a single bite.
“That’s it for the treats.” Carlita showed him her empty hands.
He cast her a suspicious look, his furry brows lifting and lowering.
“I don’t think he believes you,” Pete laughed while the pup plopped down and watched a jogger pass by. “Elvira has been low-key these days.”
“As in she isn’t sneaking into your tunnel, digging up the parking lot or coming up with a new scheme to find treasure?” Carlita asked.
“Precisely.”
“She’s too busy installing new cameras.”
Pete sipped his water. “New cameras?”
“On the back of her building to spy on my new tenant, Bubba. For some reason, she doesn’t like him or trust him.” Carlita told him she’d caught her pointing it at the apartment’s back door. “As soon as she left, Tony got the ladder and helped me turn it.”
“Has she ever been diagnosed with ADHD?”
“No, but it wouldn’t surprise me.” She dug into her potato salad. “This is delish.”
“Thanks. We recently added it to our menu,” Pete said. “It has the perfect amount of creaminess mingled with a subtle crunch from the finely chopped celery.”
“I agree.” Carlita took another bite. “Back to Bubba. Elvira put a bug in my ear, asking me what line of work he was in.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s working as an underground mechanic for Southern Subterranean Group. I checked out their website but found theabout ussection somewhat vague.”
“Underground mechanic. Never heard of one.”
