Page 88 of Whistle

Or—and maybe this was the best idea yet—they could go home.

Getting away from it all, spending the summer in the country, was not the panacea she had hoped it would be. She could have them packed up in an hour. She’d feel bad, given all the work Finnegan had gone to. Annie would say Charlie missed his friend, that living up here had felt too isolating.

She heard the front door open, and Charlie walked out onto the porch.

“Hey, sweetie,” Annie said. “I’ve been thinking, we had so much fun today, going to the airport, picking strawberries, that I thought we’d head out again tomorrow in a totally different direction. See what we might find. Or, and just hear me out here, we could go back to the city. If you feel like we’re running out of stuff to do here, we could to that, too. What do you think?”

Charlie showed no reaction to the proposal. In fact, he had looked annoyed from the moment he’d walked into the room.

“I don’t want you playing with my stuff,” he said. “I like it the way it is.”

“What are you talking about, Charlie?”

“I like the track the way it is. I don’t want you taking it apart and making it into something different. It’s just the way I like it.”

Annie got up. “Show me.”

They went back in, up the stairs, and into the studio. Charlie stopped and pointed.

“That,” he said.

It took Annie a second to realize what had happened. Charlie had, from the beginning, put the track sections together to make a large loop. Two long straight sides, curved at each end, not unlike a horse-racing track.

The track pieces had been reassembled to make a figure eight. Annie stared disbelievingly.

“And you moved all the buildings around, too,” Charlie said. “I’m going to hafta put it back the way it was.”

Twenty-Eight

Finnegan Sproule had been thinking about a surprise visit for several days.

Drive up to see Annie and Charlie and bring some New York with him. Now, lots of foods that were identified with the city wouldn’t travel well. He couldn’t bring a slice from Joe’s Pizza or a dirty water hot dog from a street vendor or a fresh-off-the-grill steak from Smith & Wollensky, not when there was a drive of several hours involved, but he could arrive with a variety of bagels and some babka from Ess-a-Bagel. Maybe some cronuts from that place down on Spring Street, fruit tarts from Le Pain Quotidien. If he brought along a cooler and some ice packs, he could treat them to some cheesecake and some sliced pastrami.

And wine. Definitely wine.

He’d also wander some of the other divisions of the publishing empire he was part of, grab a few advance copies for Annie to enjoy. A Grisham that didn’t come out for another five months, or another novel from actor Tom Hanks. Some books for Charlie, too, who Finnegan knew to be a reader.

His motives were not entirely altruistic. He could use a break from the city. It had been a hot, humid week and there wasn’t much relief unless you wanted to run through a city-run splash pool with a bunch of grade-schoolers. So he decided to get his twenty-year-old Porsche Boxster out of the garage and give it a good run.

He had packed an overnight bag and booked a bed-and-breakfast for two nights not far from where Annie and Charlie were living so he could make a weekend of it. Finnegan did not have a partner—it was just him. He’d had a few boyfriends over the years, but there’d never been a relationship serious enough that he wanted to share accommodation, and he was okay with that.

He set out in the morning, after the worst of the rush hour was over, although rush hour was never really over in New York. But by eleven he was clear of the city and hitting the open road with the top down and AC blowing out of the vents.

The Porsche had no navigation system, but he had his phone hanging from a bracket on the dash to assist him with directions. Stopped along the way twice for coffee and bathroom breaks, and by midafternoon, he was closing in on the place.

It occurred to him Annie and Charlie might not be there when he arrived, and if that happened, what was he to do? Especially considering he was bringing some food that would need to come out of the cooler and go into a fridge. He put in a call to Candace, with whom he had arranged things, and asked whether she could leave a key in the mailbox for him if Annie and Charlie were out. He explained he wanted to surprise them.

She said she would be happy to oblige.

So when Finnegan arrived, and did not see Annie’s SUV in the driveway, he was glad he had planned ahead. He parked out front, then walked back down to the road to the mailbox, where he found a key inside an envelope.

Just to be sure Annie wasn’t home, he rapped hard on the door several times. When there was no response, he unlocked the door and opened it wide.

“Wow,” he said under his breath. “Do I have excellent taste, or what?”

He didn’t want to be overly intrusive. He decided he would just bring in all the goodies that needed to go into the fridge then wait on the porch for Annie and Charlie. He made two trips out to the Boxster, emptying the front trunk. He set the baked goods, like the cronuts and bagels, on the kitchen island where they couldn’t be missed. He made two small stacks of books. One for Annie, and one for Charlie.

He was heading for the front door when he heard something.

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