He’d stood when Polly came to the table and nodded a greeting, but they were seated at opposite ends and hadn’t been able to talk beyond the general, frenetic family discussion. Afterward, when Sally excused herself to drive the kids to an end-of-term party, and Kurt went to pay the bill, refusing Polly’s offer to chip in, Percy said something she couldn’t hear. There was a noisy table behind them, a group of friends celebrating an upcoming wedding, so she moved closer.
“What did you think of the house?” Percy said. “Halcyon.”
“Beautiful,” she replied. “Sad, grand. It reminded me of something out of Jane Austen.”
“Pemberley, I always thought.”
“Yes, exactly. Mr. Darcy would have been quite at home there.”
He smiled, considering her. “You like Austen?”
“I like most books.”
“Reading anything good now?”
“I just startedThe Remains of the Day.”
“Oh, excellent. Wonderful writer. How aboutThe Joy Luck Club?”
“Last book but one.”
“On my list of favorites for the year.”
“Mine too.”
“A Time to Kill?”
“Loved it.”
He was nodding, a smile of satisfaction on his face. Polly, too, felt the bonhomie that grows quickly and strongly between like-minded book lovers. And then he frowned, leaning a little closer. “That necklace,” he said.
Polly looked down to where her silver cat was hanging on the long chain. It needed a polish, she realized. She told him the story about the Victorian rattle, but when she’d finished he said, “I meant the little bird. Where did you find it?”
Polly smiled. “Actually,” she said, “I reallydidfind it. Today, just before I met Kurt. I spotted it on the ground while I was walking. The sunlight caught on a piece of silver ribbon that must once have been tied to it and drew my eye.”
He was nodding. “Near the water hole?”
She wondered how he knew, and then realized that of course Kurt must have told him where they’d met. “I like to collect things from nature. I’m always on the lookout. It’s a hobby; my daughter and I used to beachcomb when she was small... I thought it was a stone at first, or a smooth seedpod. But it wasn’t. It was this most perfect little bird. A wren, I think.”
“A fairy wren. We have a lot of them around here.”
“A fairy wren,” said Polly, liking the name very much. “There was something almost magical about it. It was just lying there, as if it had been waiting for me to find it. I suppose that sounds silly.”
“Not at all.”
“I can be a bit of a romantic.”
“A fine trait. We’d have no books or music or paintings if not for the romantics among us.”
He didn’t look to be laughing and it gave her the confidence to continue. “It had this little loop attached—see, right here—so I slipped it onto my necklace.”
“It’s perfect.” His voice seemed to catch and his eyes looked a bit glassy, she noticed. Perhaps the wind was bothering him. It had picked up, and they were sitting outside. She realized he was probably tired. She could see Kurt making his way back.
“I’ve had such a lovely time,” she said. “I’m glad I met Kurt today.”
“Are you leaving?”
“I should. It’s been a long day and I’ve imposed on your time enough; thank you for having me at your family dinner.”
