Sunday morning finally arrived after a week of mercilessly teasing Augustus about his mysterious plans.
I watched from my bedroom window as his Aston Martin pulled up. He climbed out wearing a light linen shirt, dark trousers, and—most shocking of all—no tie.
I met him at the front door.
"No suit?"
"It's Sunday."
"You wore a suit to a barbecue once."
"That was a business event."
"It involved grilled sausages and an inflatable swimming pool."
"There were investors present."
I circled him, pretending to evaluate his appearance.
"Linen suits you."
"I'll alert the tailors."
I tried extracting our destination during the walk to his car. Augustus refused to reveal anything, although he assured me my sundress and comfortable shoes were appropriate.
"Should I have brought anything?"
"No."
"A passport?"
"Juliette."
"An emergency overnight bag?"
"We're going on a date, not fleeing the country."
I slid into the passenger seat and spotted a picnic basket behind us.
