“Oh. Um. Well, that’s a nice idea,” I answer.
“Let’s talk later.”
“Certainly.”
I get to the bottom of the stairs and open the door that leads to the office space. I find myself in a back room full of file cabinets and shelves of ledgers that reach to the ceiling. The door to this anteroom is ajar and beyond it I hear the clicking of an adding machine.
“Jamie?” I poke my head through the door’s opening.
Jamie is seated at his old desk, working the machine, with an open ledger in front of him. The desk where his father sits is empty. Beyond him is the counter that separates his and his father’s offices from the reception area. Beatrice’s chair is empty, too.
He looks up as I come into his office. He’s had a haircut and is clean-shaven. The clothes he’s wearing are new and tailored.
“Maggie!” His smile is one of surprise but also of obvious delight.
“Your mother let me come down the stairs from the apartment. I need to talk to you for a minute if that’s all right.”
He stands. “Of course. Please. Come in. Have a seat.” He moves newspaper pages off a chair directly across from his desk. He motions for me to sit and then he takes an identical chair next to it.
I look past him to his father’s office. “So, your father is away at the moment?”
He glances behind him and then back to me. “Yes. He’s meeting with a client.”
“And Beatrice?”
He slightly crinkles one eyebrow. “I’m afraid she’s out sick today.”
I nod. The conditions are perfect for what I want to ask, but I don’t know how to say it.
“It’s true, then? You’re getting married?” He is looking at my ring.
I gaze down at the sapphire on my finger. “Yes.”
“Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”
I lift my head to look at him. “You are?”
He blinks. “Pardon?”
“You’re sure I’ll be very happy?”
“You’re not?”
“I don’t know how any of us can be sure of anything.”
He studies me for a moment, and I know he’s wondering what in the world I am talking about. I close my eyes for just a moment to dispel the notion that I might not love Palmer like he loves me.
“Maggie?”
“I saw the letters.” The words tumble out too soon. But once they are out, they are out. I open my eyes.
Jamie is looking intently at me. I cannot read his expression.
“I didn’t mean to look inside your rucksack. It just happened. You were leaving my house to come here and you’d forgotten it in the sitting room. I went to get it for you and because it was open, a few things started to fall out when I picked it up. I merely wanted to put everything back inside. And that’s when I saw them. My letters.”
He is quiet for a second and his unreadable thoughts are making my heart pound.
“I’m not angry you saw those letters,” Jamie finally says. “I was going to tell you myself that I still had them. I figured at some point I’d have the chance.”
