Free Harriet the Spy, Double Agent by Maya Gold Page B

it.” Harriet handed him money and lunged for the door.
    “Your change!” he called.
    “Keep it,” she said, jumping onto the curb. “Merry Christmas!” Annie and her escort were moving away from her fast, and Harriet was sure she’d lose sight of them in the huge crowd of tourists. She fastened her sights on the man’s blond head—because he was taller, she told herself; Annie’s beret could get lost in a crush of big shoulders.
    They were passing between two tall buildings, on a double path split by a long row of topiary reindeer. Snatches of carols drifted out from boutiques on both sides, but as they drew close to the plaza where the gigantic Christmas tree stood, the amplified sound from the skating rink drowned out the rest of the music. Annie stopped in her tracks to gape up at the twinkling enormity of the great tree, and Harriet realized that this was Annie Smith’s first New York City Christmas.
    Someone waved from the corner rail of the skating rink. Harriet recognized him at once as the cashmere-clad man with the curly hair, the older man Annie had met in the restaurant. It’s P., she thought. Twice in two weeks. She squinted at Annie to see if she showed any telltale shifts in behavior, but Annie’s expression was hard to read. She walked toward the skating rink, and the blond guy went with her, laying a casual hand on her shoulder.
    He was wearing the same Guatemalan wool jacket he’d had on the first time Harriet had seen him. It suited him. But it was that fingerless glove resting on her friend’s shoulder that stirred up a feeling that made her feel stupid, embarrassed, and happy at once. It could not be a crush, she told herself sternly. Not on a spy mission.
    She watched as the three of them met at the edge of the rink. This time the older man hugged Annie first, then turned to her escort, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back before handing over a folded bill.
    The blond guy gave Annie a half bow and waved goodbye, turning to amble back toward Fifth Avenue. Harriet froze in her tracks. He was heading right toward her. If she turned away to hide her face and protect her anonymity, she would certainly lose sight of Annie and P. He doesn’t know me from Adam, she thought. I’ll just brazen it out and walk past him like any other tourist who’s come here to look at the tree. She took several steps forward as he approached and realized that he was looking right at her. Worse, he was gesturing, making eye contact.
    “Nice gloves.” He grinned, flashing a bare-fingered peace sign.
    “Thanks,” croaked Harriet, blushing beet red.
    The crowd was so dense by the tree and the skating rink that it was hard to maneuver at all, much less keep a discreet eye on Annie and P. Once or twice Harriet thought she had lost them for sure, but she always managed to spot Annie’s red beret between elbows and backs. When they emerged onto Sixth Avenue, there was no question where they were headed: Radio City Music Hall. Of course, thought Harriet as Annie took her ticket envelope out of her pocket. The Christmas show!
    Uniformed ushers tore tickets briskly in front of each door. P. put his arm around Annie’s shoulders and led her in, past a maroon velvet rope. There was no way to follow them into the lobby without a ticket. Harriet stood underneath the marquee, looking at the sleek art deco doors, and tried to decide what to do with herself. Should she just head back home? Watch the skaters or go Christmas shopping? Or find a good place for a stakeout and follow them after the show?
    This last option promised the most satisfaction. Harriet asked one of the ushers how long the first act would run and found out she had more than an hour to wait. She decided to circle around to the back of the building and look for a place where she could sit down with her notebook until intermission.
    The bray of a donkey surprised her; it wasn’t a sound you expected to hear in midtown Manhattan. Harriet turned