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“Is he coming?” I cut my eyes over to Daniel, feigning disdain.
“I am.”
“He is not.”
“Now that that’s settled, can we meet around noon,Muriella? I have to work, but we shouldn’t be too busy. Most everyone else is off until Monday.”
“Sounds perfect. Text me the address of your office, and I’ll come to you. Withouthim.” She pointed at Daniel and narrowed her eyes.
“I know where you work.” There was no bite to his warning.
“You won’t interfere,” I told him.
“Not unless I need to.”
* * *
“How much time do we have?”Muriella linked her arm through mine as soon as I met her in the lobby of the Hamerstein building.
“Standard hour.” I made a face and pushed through the revolving door. We squeezed in the same slot together, earning a look from security standing nearby. “I could really use a liquid lunch.”
“Maybe someday when you have the afternoon off.”
“I don’t see that happening any time soon.” I hesitated and looked down the sidewalk in both directions. “Which way?”
Muriella’s cheeks turned pink. “Straight ahead.” The familiar dark car was parked at the curb. “Hope you don’t mind, but I brought lunch.”
My brows dipped, but a smile formed on my lips. “One less thing we have to decide.”
I marched toward the car, and a driver stepped out. I cast a sideways look at Muriella, halfway expecting Daniel to be our chauffeur.
“I told him no.” And that was all she said on the matter, as if reading my mind.
The driver held open the back door, and we piled inside the warm interior. I rubbed both of my arms and shivered as I settled into the seat. “It feels like the beach in here.”
“If it’s too hot—”
“No. It’s perfect.” I put a hand on Muriella’s knee when she reached for the temperature control.
“Anywhere in particular you’d like to go? The park isn’t too far,” she suggested.
“Why don’t we picnic in here?”
A broad smile lit her face. She leaned forward, and the driver turned around. “We need to be back here in fifty minutes, so anywhere you’d like to drive to accomplish that.”
“I’ll take the scenic route,” the man returned, his expression stoic, though his tone was light.
The partition between the front and back seats hummed as it rose. Muriella shifted a basket to the hump on the floorboard between us. I kicked off my shoes and turned to face her, tucking one leg up under me.
“I’ve never been on a picnic,” I announced.
She looked startled, but quickly recovered, removing containers from her basket. “Neither have I, in a car.” She opened the lid, the smell of fresh baked bread hitting my nostrils. “I hope you like roasted vegetable sandwiches.”
“Beats the hell out of cereal.”
Muriella paused and gave me a strange look before she began assembling the sandwiches. I marveled at how simple and beautiful she made it look.
“Here you go.” She passed me a plate, and I set it in my lap.
