“Last name?” “Rogers.” Type, click. Click. “Renée?” She nodded. Click. “Okay, you’re all set.” The man in the booth glanced up at the darkening sky. “Looks like it’s going to be one of those unpredictable-weather days. Good thing you’re covered up. Enjoy the garden — you’ll have it mostly to yourself.” She nodded again and turned away, winding her thick brown scarf more closely around her neck as she walked through the gate and into the gusty wind.
