Page 48 of Fate and Fortune

“Then you haven’t been to Boston.” He’d changed out of the suit into a dark sweater, and he looked, alarmingly, like a person instead of an employer. “It’s four blocks to the prettiest part of the city, and we’re not going to sit in a hotel until tomorrow. Get your shoes. Boston is one of my favorite cities.”

“Is this an order? Because I read my job description twice.”

“It’s a strong suggestion.”

She got her shoes. Honestly, she wanted to go. Why pretend?

Copley Square was beautiful in the fall with all the orange and gold trees. A big stone church stood on one end and the library on the other, students cutting across with backpacks. Sam walked her past the church first and told her about its history.

“You know things,” she accused.

“I went to school out here. A long time ago.”

“You never say where.”

“Because it’s not important,” he replied, and steered her across the street.

Okay, he’s not talking.

He took her into the Boston Public Library, and through it to a courtyard in the middle that she was completely unprepared for. It was a square of quiet in the middle of the city, a fountain, a covered walk, the noise of the streets suddenly gone as if someone had shut a door on it. A few people sat reading.

“Oh,” Alli said. “How lovely.”

“People walk past the front of this building their whole lives and never come in far enough to find this.” Sam had his hands in his pockets.

“But you did.”

“Yes, I did.”

It was that persistence that she’d noticed since working with him. He wanted to delve deeper, work harder, be more curious, and get more results than anyone else.

“I’m not surprised one bit,” she finally said.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, even though I’m not sure you meant it as one.”

“I did, just so you know.”

“Thank you. Now let’s see some more of this amazing city.”

They walked for three hours.

This trip to Boston stopped being about Leigh somewhere along Newbury Street, where Alli made him go into a bookstore and he pretended to be annoyed about it.

Then bought four things.

It stopped being about the case entirely by the time they reached the Public Garden, where the last swan boats of the season made their slow loops around the pond, and the willows turned gold and dropped their leaves into the water.

Near the Beacon Street corner, she stopped short and excitedly grabbed his sleeve.

“The ducks. It’s the ducks.”

A mother duck cast in bronze led a line of ducklings across the paving, each one worn shiny on the head and back from decades of children climbing on them. Somebody had tied a small knitted scarf around the mother’s neck. Alli crouched down to get a better look.

“Make Way for Ducklings,” she said. “My mother read me this book. In four different apartments, I think. It was one of the only ones that made it into every box.” She touched the smooth bronze head of the smallest duckling. “I’d heard they were here, but I’d forgotten all about it until I saw them.”

“They have names,” Sam said. “In the book. Jack, Kack, Lack, I don’t remember the rest.”

This man remembered the ducks’ names? How was she supposed to resist that?