Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I need to see Opal Waverly again, so I make the executive decision to head back to Murray Hill after my meeting today. Why wait until tomorrow? What harm could come from learning more about the woman so I can pass that information on to Percy?
11
Opal
A soft knock at the door of my bar sends me off in that direction in a sprint. I’m anxiously awaiting a big box of used board games that I bought during an online auction. I’ve stocked this bar with hundreds of games that I found online, in vintage shops, and at estate sales. I can also attribute a handful of the ones already on a shelf in the corner to my personal collection.
I swing open the door expecting to see the same delivery guy who has visited me almost every day this week. I know him by name, and I also know that a five dollar tip always earns me a smile.
He’s not standing there, though. William Knight is and as usual, he’s dressed to perfection in a dark blue suit and violet tie. I, on the other hand, have on a pair of red jeans and a white T-shirt with the name of Posey’s brother’s restaurant stamped across the chest. She ordered pizza from Franzini’s one night while working on the mural. Elio, her oldest brother, sent a T-shirt along with the delivery. Posey gave it to me, and I’ve been wearing it at least a couple of times a week since then.
Why not help a fellow small business owner out with free marketing whenever I can?
“Franzini’s,” William reads the front of my shirt. “I can vouch for their pepperoni pie. It’s the best in Brooklyn.”
“The best in all of New York City,” I correct him because Posey made the claim and followed it up with a vow that she was speaking the truth.
“I make a killer pepperoni pie,” he boasts.
I’m tempted to ask if I can sample it, but I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth. I’ve made a move on a man before that landed flat. I can deal with the embarrassment, but I’d rather bypass it if possible.
Still standing in the doorway, I look past him toward the street, hoping to see the delivery truck since I need to leave within the next ten minutes to meet Aunt Hildy for lunch.
William’s gaze drifts over his shoulder. “Are you expecting someone?”
I nod. “I am. He should have been here by now.”
“Who?”
Surprised by the question, I laugh. “No one you know.”
I can tell that he finds it at least somewhat funny because the corners of his lips quirk up to a lazy smile. “I know a lot of people in this town, Opal.”
“So do I,” I bite back as if it’s a challenge.
“Have you always lived in New York?” he asks as he steps closer to me before leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb.
The proximity feels intimate in a way, but I don’t move a muscle. I like being this close to him. He’s not only attractive, but he’s nice to talk to. I’ve met a lot of people in this city, and it’s rare to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t glance around repeatedly or check their phone every thirty seconds. I noticed the same thing about him during the soft launch. Whenever I glanced in his direction, his gaze was on his brother or the chessboard between them.
Focused attention may not seem like an important quality in a man, but it is to me.
As if to punctuate my point, a phone starts ringing. I know it’s not mine since I changed my ringtone to one of my favorite songs this morning. I do that whenever I need a reminder that taking a few seconds for a dance break during the day is okay.
I may have danced around the empty bar earlier when Aunt Hildy called to firm up our lunch plans. When I finally answered after singing along to the song for at least twenty seconds, she asked if I was all right since it took me so long to pick up.
“That’s your phone,” I tell William as if he isn’t aware. “You should answer it.”
He keeps his eyes locked on my face. “It can wait.”
“It might be about work,” I point out, hoping that opens the door for me to probe deeper into that subject.
In my mind I’ve already labeled him as an attorney, or someone who works in finance. He has a commanding presence and is always dressed in what appears to be his business best, so I think he’s killing it in either a courtroom or a conference room.
“It likely is.” He smiles.
That tells me nothing, so I make an assumption based on that. “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”
He chuckles as the ringing stops. “Hell, no.”