“Well, this is me not working. If the topic happens to come up in conversation, so be it.”
“I see.” She smiled. “I must say, your timing is impeccable.”
He shrugged but didn’t tell her how long he’d been waiting. “It didn’t take much deductive reasoning to guess you’d want to see the parade, like the rest of Manhattan. Are you meeting your father, too?”
She pursed her lips. “He’s out of town on some kind of Napoleon Society emergency, and my aunt and uncle are in Europe.”
“So you’re spending Thanksgiving...?”
“With Ivy and Elsa. The Beresford is putting on a feast for residents this afternoon.”
The food Joe’s parents were cooking up today was certain to be far better.
They came to the corner of 81st Street, and he tucked her hand through his elbow as they crossed it. Sidewalks teemed with paradeseekers. When they reached the other side, he didn’t let go of her in the crowd. He was tall enough to keep an eye on her roommates, too.
Ivy looked over her shoulder, likely to be sure Joe and Lauren were still behind her. Lauren waved.
She’d probably rather be with her friends.
Joe’s impulse to see her today had felt like the right thing to do. Now he felt selfish for inserting himself. “I don’t mean to keep you from your original plans for this morning,” he said.
“Keep her?” Elsa turned around. “No, you can’t keep our Lauren, but we don’t mind sharing her, seeing as you’ve come all this way.”
Joe looked to Lauren. “Sure?”
“If you’re going to watch the parade near us, you might as well watch it with us,” she said. “Besides, we might get hungry. Or thirsty.” She batted her eyes at him, then sniffed the air and grinned.
Joe laughed at her not-so-veiled request. “Roasted chestnuts? Hot chocolate?”
Three feminine hands shot up in the air.
“We just ate breakfast,” Ivy said, “but by the time you get back from standing in line, it may be near lunch.”
“I surrender. Where should I meet you?”
Elsa pointed at the American Museum of Natural History. “The steps,” she said. “We’ll have a good view from there.”
Joe tipped his hat to the three of them and turned to get in line.
Lauren didn’t leave his side. “You’ll need help bringing back food and drinks for four.”
“So I will.”
The street had been closed to traffic, so they darted across to a vendor at the edge of Central Park. Questions Joe had been meaning to ask Lauren rose to the surface. “I know I said I wasn’t working today. But as long as we’re both here, do you mind if we talk about it?”
“I really don’t have anything to report, Joe. I’ve been totally wrapped up in my own work.”
He blinked. “Is that a mummy joke?”
She laughed, and it was a musical sound.
“You might not have any updates, but I do.” He shared about his visit to Feinstein’s antique shop and the man’s refusal to file a report for the break-in, but left out his fear of a new Mafia filling in for the Black Hand. No need to scare her with an instinct he wasn’t even sure he could trust. “I’ve been looking at Feinstein’s cagey behavior from every angle, even wondering if he could be a forger.”
“Really?”
“I quickly dismissed the idea. A forger needs a steady hand and discerning eye, right? Feinstein has neither. He mentioned weeks ago that he’s color-blind. But he’s definitely hiding something.”
“So the search continues.”
