Free Royal Pains : Sick Rich (9781101559536) by D. P. Lyle Page B

that I had come up with, which of course was no idea at all. “What exactly did highwaymen wear?”
    â€œThe outfits they had at the store had long shirts, a wide leather belt, and capes. Oh, and a fake pistol you could stuff beneath the belt.”
    â€œWhere is this place?” I asked.
    â€œOver toward Montauk. Want to swing by and see what they look like?” Jill asked.
    â€œTomorrow?”
    â€œWe probably should. We only have a few days to come up with something.”
    â€œMaybe after our first patient tomorrow?” Divya said.
    â€œSure,” I said. “We could be there about nine.”
    Jill pulled her phone from her purse and worked its keyboard. “Looks like that’ll work. I have an eight o’clock meeting and then I was going over to the high school to see how the preparations are going. I’ll meet you there in between.”
    â€œThen maybe we’ll follow you to the school,” Divya said, and then to me, “We need to take another look at our booth and decide how we’re going to set it up.”
    I forked a piece of chicken. “Sounds like a plan.”
    Conversation ended for a few minutes as everyone enjoyed the meal. The silence was broken by a knock at the door. When I opened it, Dieter looked at me. He extended both hands. One held a check, the other a bottle of wine.
    I took them both and said, “Want to come in?”
    â€œNo. Boris wanted you to have the check this evening and, of course, the wine.”
    â€œThat’s very kind of him. Tell him we are grateful.”
    Dieter gave a mechanical smile and a slight bow. “Then I’m off.” He turned and walked away. Just like that.
    I placed the wine on the table. The label said it was a 2000 Château Latour Pauillac. I assumed it was good, and expensive, but my knowledge of wine is near zero.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Evan asked, picking up the bottle.
    â€œA gift from Boris.”
    Evan studied the label. “Dude, this is expensive.”
    Jill looked at it. “Wow. This is the good stuff.”
    â€œWhat’s with Boris being so generous?” Evan asked.
    â€œHe’s always generous,” I said.
    â€œI’ll open it,” Divya said. She stood and walked to the counter where the opener lay.
    â€œThat’s not the half of it,” I said. I handed the check to Jill.
    She looked at it, then up at me, and then back to the check. “Are you kidding?”
    Evan snatched it. “Let me see.” He looked at it, his eyes widening. “Dude, this is serious coin.”
    â€œThat’s Boris,” I said. “He doesn’t do anything halfway.”
    Divya returned with the wine and four fresh glasses and sat. Evan handed her the check. “Oh, my, this is serious.” She gave the check back to Jill.
    â€œAdding this to the great job Evan has done puts us way over the top,” Jill said.
    â€œThat’s Evan R. Lawson, fund-raiser extraordinaire.”
    â€œYour business card is getting quite cluttered,” Divya said.
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œLet’s see—superspy, master chef, and now fund-raiser extraordinaire. That’s a lot to get on a card.”
    â€œDon’t forget supercool bon vivant,” Evan said.
    â€œHow could I forget that?” Divya asked.
    We were back to high school again.
    I poured wine for everyone. It was fantastic. Way too expensive for my blood, but it was an unexpected treat.
    Silence fell again as everyone returned to Evan’s wonderful meal. The Sally Lunn bread was exactly as I remembered.
    â€œEvan, you’ve outdone yourself again,” I said. “This bread is outstanding.”
    â€œJust like when we were kids,” he said.
    What’d I tell you?
    â€œKids?” Jill asked.
    Evan related the story of our childhood trip to Williamsburg. I corrected him on a couple of things and he corrected me back, but mostly we agreed.

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