“You can call me Mike.” He put an arm around her shoulders. The cheap scent of rayon informed her of the fabric of his suit despite its immaculately tailored appearance. “Stick with me and I’ll show you the ropes, kid.”
She was likely two or three years older than him, certainly no kid in his book. “I’m certain you can do that without your arm around my shoulders.” She eased out from beneath his hold with a smile to make her words less sharp.
He swiftly withdrew from her, his hands held up in proof of his innocence. “We’ve heard everything about you.” He wagged a finger at her. “You’re smart, dig into research like a bloodhound, and know your way around microfilm.”
It was a reminder of her former self from DC, one who didn’t have to pretend to find humor in jokes she didn’t understand, who knew what went where and why. She nodded, proud of her accomplishments.
“Tell you what,” Mike said. “Gather up all the daily publications and newspapers tomorrow morning and come back here. I’ll show you how to get them all back to DC for filing.”
“Now that I can do.” While she spoke with confidence, she felt only the quivers of trepidation. She had no idea what she was looking for or where she might find it. But after his compliment, she didn’t dare inquire lest she sound stupid.
He offered her a mock salute with two fingers and an amiable wink before sauntering to one of the back rooms.
Peggy gave a good-natured shake of her head. “He’s a piece of work, that one.” She held up a set of keys. “Your bags are still in the car. C’mon, I’ll drive you to your flat. We got you a little place just off Rossio Square, all to yourself and everything.”
Ava hesitated before following Peggy. “Are you sure there’s nothing I should be doing here?”
“You need to get settled,” Peggy said over her shoulder. The flare of her yellow skirt was far more generous than was allowed in DC. Apparently, the cloth ration was not in effect in Lisbon.
They approached the door to leave when Ava put a hand on Peggy’s arm. “Don’t you need a hat?”
Peggy tilted her head. “Why would I need a hat?”
Heat effused Ava’s cheeks. “Won’t you…be…taken for…a…？”
Peggy lifted her brows for Ava to continue.
“Prostitute,” Ava whispered in a rushed breath, glancing around after to ensure no one heard.
To her great surprise, Peggy burst out laughing. “I’m guessing you read that OSS manual on Lisbon?”
Ava straightened her spine an inch taller. “Of course I did.”
“A lot’s changed since they wrote that straitlaced piece.” Still chuckling to herself, Peggy waved for Ava to follow. “C’mon, let’s get you to your new place so you can get settled.”
The ride to Rossio Square only took a few minutes—likely too far to walk, but almost too short to drive. Peggy drove slower, allowing Ava to take in the ornamented sidewalks throughout Lisbon with detailed chunks of limestone and basalt laid out in an ancient art form called cal?ada, a practice dating back to Mesopotamia. Some spreads were in specific patterns and others merely a smattering of stones fitted together like perfectly made puzzle pieces. But the one Ava had most anticipated from her research was that of Rossio Square.
She pulled in a quiet breath as the black volcanic stone and white calcified rock formation came into view, its wavelike pattern shifting against the eyes depending on how one looked at it.
“Rossio Square.” Peggy gestured to the stretch of ornate stonework and the statue of King Pedro VI of Portugal atop a towering column at its center. “I don’t know what they call that patterned walkway, but it’s lovely, isn’t it?”