Page 70 of High Notes & Hail Marys

“The one and only,” you reply. “Can I help you?”

She laughs.

“Goodness, Mister Grayson was right. Your drawl reallyislovely.”

“My…?”

She lets herself in, ducking right under your arm with the advantage of being almost a foot and a half shorter than you.

“He described you, you know. Tremendously tall, brown skin, big muscles, lovely Southern drawl. You’re quite distinctive, I must say. And even more handsome than your picture.”

You shut the door in bemusement. With tremendous self-possession, the woman slides her flats off and goes to pat Apollo.

“Am I… am I supposed to know who you are?” you ask helplessly.

The woman laughs again. Perhapsgigglesis more like it. It’s girlish and sweet.

“Lord, where are my manners?” She extends her hand. “Muriel Thompson-Wright. You were supposed to get a text from your beau that I was on my way, but perhaps it didn’t get to you before I did?”

You groan internally, realizing at that very second that you left your phone upstairs when you dropped off your bags.

“No worries!” Muriel says cheerfully. “I’ve been working with Ms. Mukherjee. Fine lady, she is. She sent me to see about you and make sure you settled in just fine.”

“Oh, are you Ster’s London PA?” you ask. “You really didn’t need to worry about me.”

Muriel pats you on the shoulder. She has to reach up to do it.

“No, sweet boy,” she says patiently. “I’myourLondon assistant. Not a PA, so much. More of a… liaison.”

You know that you have to look confused.

“Maeve hired you for me?” you repeat.

“Yes indeed!” She pulls an iPhone from her rectangular back purse. It’s got a green casecovered in red apples. “I have prepared an extensive amount of resources for your holiday.”

Feeling like a parrot, you hear yourself echo her again. “Resources?”

“I was told you’ll need access to a gymnasium to exercise, a trainer, and a good nutritionist to keep your diet in check. There’s a GP if you happen to need one, too. I have lists of eateries that would appeal to your tastes, coffee shops that might interest you, and several local grocers you could visit if you’ve a yen for cooking. You will see when you check your email that I’ve sourced a number of products that Mister Grayson says you prefer. Some energy drinks, fresh fruit, and breakfast cereal, just off the top of my head, I’ve prepared a number of daily itineraries for sightseeing both locally and further abroad, depending on the weather and your preferred activity level. These are only the days that you are without Mister Grayson, of course.”

Muriel pauses to take a breath.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate all that, ma’am,” you say hesitantly. “Because I do. I really do. It’s just… you did so much work. And I have Siri, you know? I could have gotten myself around.”

“Mister Reinhart!” For the first time in your conversation, Muriel looks less-than-pleasant. Actually, she looks affronted. “I assure you that Iam more useful than Siri.”

“Okay,” you say with a shrug. “I apologize.”

“What would you like to do first? I personally ensured the kitchen was amply stocked, but I have sent you some takeaway menus for dinner. Would you fancy something for tea to tide you over until then?”

You quirk your lip. “Honestly, I’m not a big tea drinker. Other than that, I didn’t know what I had in mind. Maybe taking a walk and looking around?”

She shakes her head. “Notdrinkingtea, Mister Reinhart, although most Brits do that. I simply wondered if you wanted a snack.”

Nobody has offered you a snack since you were in the first grade. It’s not an unappealing idea, despite feeling irrationally like you are being condescended to, but you ate a big lunch on the plane. Sterling’s flight attendants spoil you rotten when you fly, and they fixed you a giant heap of pasta primavera.

When you tell Muriel this, she deflates visibly.

“You could come for the walk with me,” you suggest.

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