cocked an eyebrow. The niece pursed her lips.
The mayor scampered into his office and quickly returned with a hammer, nail, and hanger hook. He pressed his ear against the wall and thumped its surface, searching for a stud on which to hang the poster.
“Wait—why are you putting that in here?” the niece asked as he selected a mounting location across from her desk.
Monty tapped the nail into the wall with his hammer. With the hook secured, he looked over his shoulder at the niece.
“So that everyone who enters will know that San Francisco—and its charming mayor—are sailing fans.”
The niece drummed her fingers against the desk. “It’s kind of an elitist sport, isn’t it?”
Monty wagged his index finger in the air. “No, no, no. We’re bringing sailing to the masses. There will be worldwide television coverage for the event, journalists reporting from every major news organization, and spectators from across the globe. This is now my most important initiative: showcasing our city during the regatta.”
Pausing to stick out his chest, Monty added, “I’m even going to take sailing lessons.”
“That sounds dangerous,” the niece said, only partially in jest.
Isabella had been skeptically observing the proceedings from her filing cabinet perch. She voiced her first opinion of the session.
“Mrao.”
Ignoring them both, Monty lifted the poster onto the wall.
“Oh, and I forgot to tell you. We’re organizing an event for the local sponsors.” Stepping back from the poster, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cocktail napkin covered in blurry ink, and tossed it onto the niece’s desk.
The niece frowned suspiciously. “By
we
, you mean . . .”
“You!” Monty slapped his hands together. “Come on, let’s get busy. Chop, chop!”
Hox closed his notepad and moved toward the door. “That’s a winning idea you’ve got there, Mayor.”
Monty failed to notice the sarcasm in the reporter’s voice.
“We’ll send you an invite, Hox!”
As Hox disappeared through the exit, the niece grimaced at Monty’s ubiquitous—and misleading—use of the pronoun
we
.
Then she read the instructions Monty had written on the cocktail napkin from the diner and groaned.
Her workload had just increased substantially.
Chapter 24
THE RULE BOOK
THE NEXT MORNING, the niece and her cat-filled stroller set off on their regular trek to City Hall an hour early. She’d spent the previous afternoon sorting through the details for Monty’s upcoming America’s Cup event, but she’d made only a small dent in the related to-do list before heading home.
Monty’s constant pestering, questioning, and additions to the project hadn’t helped matters.
Navigating through the security line, she heaved out a weary sigh. She’d tossed and turned the night before thinking about the peculiar perfume that had infiltrated the mayor’s office suite.
She couldn’t stop wondering what had generated the odor, why it had suddenly disappeared, and if it would reoccur.
The most critical question, of course, was whether this signified the return of the Knitting Needle Ninja.
—
DESPITE THE NIECE’S early arrival, she still found herself sharing an elevator with Wanda Williams.
I can’t catch a break
, she thought as the woman’s hand stopped the door at its half-closed position and forced it to reopen.
Wanda had something more on her mind than her regular beef about cats being brought into City Hall. Once inside the elevator car, the niece’s self-appointed rival didn’t even glance down at the stroller.
Rupert appeared not to notice that he was being ignored. While passing through the security scanners minutes earlier, the guard had repeated his tease about fried chicken donuts. The cat had a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes as he smacked his lips, trying to imagine the taste.
The niece smiled ruefully. One day, she would have to take on the difficult task of explaining to Rupert that this food
The mayor scampered into his office and quickly returned with a hammer, nail, and hanger hook. He pressed his ear against the wall and thumped its surface, searching for a stud on which to hang the poster.
“Wait—why are you putting that in here?” the niece asked as he selected a mounting location across from her desk.
Monty tapped the nail into the wall with his hammer. With the hook secured, he looked over his shoulder at the niece.
“So that everyone who enters will know that San Francisco—and its charming mayor—are sailing fans.”
The niece drummed her fingers against the desk. “It’s kind of an elitist sport, isn’t it?”
Monty wagged his index finger in the air. “No, no, no. We’re bringing sailing to the masses. There will be worldwide television coverage for the event, journalists reporting from every major news organization, and spectators from across the globe. This is now my most important initiative: showcasing our city during the regatta.”
Pausing to stick out his chest, Monty added, “I’m even going to take sailing lessons.”
“That sounds dangerous,” the niece said, only partially in jest.
Isabella had been skeptically observing the proceedings from her filing cabinet perch. She voiced her first opinion of the session.
“Mrao.”
Ignoring them both, Monty lifted the poster onto the wall.
“Oh, and I forgot to tell you. We’re organizing an event for the local sponsors.” Stepping back from the poster, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cocktail napkin covered in blurry ink, and tossed it onto the niece’s desk.
The niece frowned suspiciously. “By
we
, you mean . . .”
“You!” Monty slapped his hands together. “Come on, let’s get busy. Chop, chop!”
Hox closed his notepad and moved toward the door. “That’s a winning idea you’ve got there, Mayor.”
Monty failed to notice the sarcasm in the reporter’s voice.
“We’ll send you an invite, Hox!”
As Hox disappeared through the exit, the niece grimaced at Monty’s ubiquitous—and misleading—use of the pronoun
we
.
Then she read the instructions Monty had written on the cocktail napkin from the diner and groaned.
Her workload had just increased substantially.
Chapter 24
THE RULE BOOK
THE NEXT MORNING, the niece and her cat-filled stroller set off on their regular trek to City Hall an hour early. She’d spent the previous afternoon sorting through the details for Monty’s upcoming America’s Cup event, but she’d made only a small dent in the related to-do list before heading home.
Monty’s constant pestering, questioning, and additions to the project hadn’t helped matters.
Navigating through the security line, she heaved out a weary sigh. She’d tossed and turned the night before thinking about the peculiar perfume that had infiltrated the mayor’s office suite.
She couldn’t stop wondering what had generated the odor, why it had suddenly disappeared, and if it would reoccur.
The most critical question, of course, was whether this signified the return of the Knitting Needle Ninja.
—
DESPITE THE NIECE’S early arrival, she still found herself sharing an elevator with Wanda Williams.
I can’t catch a break
, she thought as the woman’s hand stopped the door at its half-closed position and forced it to reopen.
Wanda had something more on her mind than her regular beef about cats being brought into City Hall. Once inside the elevator car, the niece’s self-appointed rival didn’t even glance down at the stroller.
Rupert appeared not to notice that he was being ignored. While passing through the security scanners minutes earlier, the guard had repeated his tease about fried chicken donuts. The cat had a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes as he smacked his lips, trying to imagine the taste.
The niece smiled ruefully. One day, she would have to take on the difficult task of explaining to Rupert that this food
Similar Books
