"I didn't have all that much lunch, but that's not the problem. Now will you please put me through?"
"Let me see what I can do," she said. "I'll call down and ask him. He might be able to see you."
Ally listened as the line went blank.
That was when she remembered she had some smoked turkey in the office fridge. Maybe a quick sandwich was called for.
While she waited, Stone was looking around the offices, taking everything in. Carrying the phone, she walked out and followed him. What, she wondered, was the place telling him about her? The meager furniture was low‑slung and utilitarian, with lots of beige and dark brown. And there were several huge storage files for blueprints and designs. There also was a comfortable easy chair and lamp near a bookcase in the corner. On the table next to the chair were two British mysteries and a thick, recently written history of New York City.
He walked over and picked it up. It was 760 pages long.
“This your idea of reading for relaxation?" he asked, waving it at her. "I tried to get through it, but I only got up to the 1930s and then I started having a bout of acute sleeping sickness every time I picked it up."
"Hey, the history of this city is a mental hobby of mine. It's always renewing itself." She smiled. "Think about it. When developers convert industrial space to residential, we end up getting a lot of work."
Then she heard the phone crackle alive. It was Van de Vliet. "Alexa, what seems to be the problem?"
She told him.