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“Nice touch. Keep going.”
“Tell him you’re in New York unexpectedly. Ask him if he has a few minutes to spare.”
“Should I mention the painting?”
“Under no circumstances.”
“How should I describe you?”
“You’re an art dealer who used to work for the CIA. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
She completed the email as the train was drawing into the station. And at half past five, as they were climbing into a taxi outside Grand Central, Phillip Somerset rang her with his answer.
“Lindsay and I are having a few friends to lunch tomorrow at our place on Long Island. You’re more than welcome to join us. And bring your friend,” he suggested. “I’d love to meet him.”
