JONNIE HELD THE RECEIVER in his right hand and listened to the ringing.
“Hello.”
“Veronica? It’s Jonnie.” He glanced out into the darkness, through the sliding glass door and over the railing at the lights of the Lincoln Memorial.
“Jonnie?”
Jonnie frowned. Had he made that insignificant an impression? “Jonnie Black. At the Ecology Now! reception?”
“Oh … Jonnie! I thought you were someone else.”
Someone else? “How have you been?” he asked, ensuring his voice sounded cheerful and unworried.
“Not bad. Yourself?” Veronica sounded professional.
“Fine personally.” But I’d be better if you sounded more interested.
“That implies you’re less than satisfied with all that fancy consulting.”
“Work? Yeah. You’re right. SSDD.”
“SSDD—is that another government acronym or just consulting jargon?”
“Same shit, different day.” When there was no response, he added, “Listen, since you’re fairly new to the area, I was wondering if you would like to go sight-seeing this weekend? I know all kinds of interesting places.”
“Besides your balcony?”
“Yes. Besides my balcony.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked the cool voice.
“It all depends. We can do the standard touristy-type things, the museums and Mount Vernon, or I can take you on Jonnie’s patented tour.”
“I think I’ve seen enough of Washington—either museums or patented tours. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”
Jonnie frowned. “Well, if you’re tired, how about a picnic on Saturday? Ever been to Roosevelt Island?”
“No … except looking at it from the bridge. What about the weather? It is October, you know.”
“It doesn’t get that cold here. If it rains, we’ll work out something.”
“Okay.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at eleven. On one condition, of course.”
“Oh?”
“You tell me where you live.”
“Out in Maryland—way out. You know where the Merriweather Post Pavilion is? I live behind it.”
“Pretty well. At least, you get to listen to a lot of music. You’re right off Broken Land Parkway?”
“Oh, you do know the area. Do you know anyone else up here?”
“No, no … I’ve just been to a lot of concerts. Now,” he added quickly, “what do I do after I get on Broken Land? I do turn there, don’t I?”
“You make a left. Then take the next left. The street curves to the right. My building is the second driveway on the right. The number is 112.”
“No problem. I’ll see you then.”
“Saturday at eleven, then.” There was a pause. “Since you’re providing the transportation and scenery, I’ll bring the food.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
Jonnie looked at the receiver. Strange—very strange. Almost as if she were treating a picnic date as an appointment. Just like too many other Washington women. She hadn’t lived in Washington long enough to claim that prerogative.