Secret Agenda by Barbara Brett

Author:Barbara Brett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbara Brett
Published: 2019-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Tom began to fidget as he waited for Nora Saturday evening. He felt a little foolish in his new clothes, rather like a kid on the first day of school. He watched the tourists strolling and the native New Yorkers hurrying through Rockefeller Plaza. Most men seemed to be tieless. Maybe he should have gone for a more casual look—an open collar or a turtleneck. Of course, several men were in suits, with women dressed to kill at their sides. Maybe he should have sprung for a new suit instead of the sports jacket.

And maybe he should have invested his money in a shrink instead of new clothes. He gave himself a mental shake and turned his attention to more important matters, like searching the crowd for the face of the man he had spotted at Syms yesterday. The guy was either doing a good job of staying out of sight or he wasn’t around tonight.

A touch on his shoulder make him whirl round.

Nora stepped back. “Hi,” she said, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Just my New York City street nerves taking over for a moment. You’re early.”

She laughed. “And you’re even earlier.”

“That’s because I had a lot to look forward to. What’s your excuse?”

Her eyes never left his. “The same. And it’s not an excuse.”

He had been hoping she would say something like that.

“I probably should have picked a meeting place closer to Brooklyn,” she said, “but this is the first landmark that came to mind, and we can get anywhere from here. Besides, I have to admit that it has always been a favorite spot of mine. It’s so New York, with its mixture of expensive shops, elegant fountains and plants, and that marvelous statue of Prometheus overlooking the restaurant. When the Japanese owned Rockefeller Center in the Nineties, I was afraid I’d wake up one day to find it radically changed.”

“You mean, mini rock gardens substituted for the exotic plants and a gigantic samurai exchanged for Prometheus?”

She looked down on the statue that for more than half a century had stared blindly at the wilting tourists who spent high sums for the dubious pleasure of dining before him al fresco in the hot, humid New York summers, and at the colorful ice skaters who, in the cold, damp winters, glided past him like exotic fishes slipping round and round an enormous bowl. “That last might have been an improvement. But I’d have missed the old boy. You know, when I was a little girl, I thought that was not fire but a bunch of bananas he held in his hand.”

“Not such a bad guess when you consider that he’s overlooking a fancy restaurant in spring and summer. When I was a kid, I recognized that he was holding fire, but I thought it was to light the chef’s barbecue.”

“Speaking of barbeque, where and what would you like to eat?”

“If you’re not starving, why don’t we discuss it over a drink? Rubbing shoulders with all these tourists has brought out the New York chauvinist in me.

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