Why by a lake?
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Why after working hours?
And strangest of all…
Why did I need to dress nicely?
I was almost certain I wasn’t going.
But then I remembered his final words.
“Trust me for a few more hours.”
A little before seven, I arrived at the lake.
Mr. Wilson was already there.
He was wearing a red polo shirt, light-colored shorts, and looked nothing like the stern director I saw every day at work.
“You came,” he said.
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“Yes. Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”
He glanced around.
“First, we need to do something.”
Then he handed his phone to a woman walking nearby.
“Would you mind taking a photo of us?”
I stared at him in confusion.