“Hold on,” he said with a laugh. “Shall we take in your groceries first?”
“Yes, yes.” She trained her eyes to her path so she wouldn’t trip over the doorstep. Hugh held open the door for her, and she trotted up to her second-floor flat, plunged the key into the lock, and swept inside.
Hugh paused inside the door, and his smile collapsed.
On the coatrack hung Theo’s little gray cap and blue coat.
“When I find him,” she said, “I’ll be ready.”
With his lips pressed tight, Hugh handed her the portfolio. “I’ll put your bag in the kitchen.”
At the round card table with its top of inlaid wood, Aleida tugged her notebook out of her purse and opened Hugh’s portfolio.
A full typewritten page lay before her. She pressed both hands to her chest, and her eyes watered. So many homes and institutions and societies. Some already graced her list, but many didn’t.
“Thank you, Hugh. Please thank Mr. Hastings for me.”
He returned from the kitchen, sat across from her, and set his hat on the table. “I will.”
Something was wrong though. “In what order is the list? It isn’t alphabetical. Is it by borough?”
Hugh raised one eyebrow. “The order my uncle thought of them, I suppose.”
How could Aleida write down information until she put it in order?
“My apologies for the typographical errors.” Hugh crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “I take full credit for some, but some I can honestly blame on my cat.”
She smiled. “Lennox.”
“No matter what I’m reading or writing, he simply must sit upon it, and he plays with the typewriter as I work. He is no ordinary cat.” His eyes shone with almost-paternal pride.
Happy memories of her family’s many cats filled her mind. “There are no ordinary cats.”
His smile flashed, edging up his faded freckles. “I shouldn’t be surprised. For the first time, I’m learning what fascinating creatures they are.”
“You’ve never had a cat? Do the Collingwoods prefer dogs?”
His gaze dimmed. “No dogs either.”
“Oh?” She rested her chin in her palm. “I thought all Englishmen kept a pack of hounds.”
The sparkle returned to his eyes. “There are no ordinary Englishmen.”
Aleida laughed and ducked her gaze. Hugh Collingwood, for one, was anything but ordinary. She found the next page in her notebook. She ought to list them by borough, but she wasn’t familiar enough with London.
Hugh leaned back in the chair. “I wish I were as organized as you. I’m forever misplacing things, and I have a dickens of a time finding my notes.”
Having seen the inside of his notebook, she wasn’t surprised. “I could teach you.”
His eyebrows sprang toward the wavy lock of caramel hair he should have smoothed after removing his hat. But she was glad he hadn’t.
“Could you?” he said. “I’m rather a hopeless case.”
“I could help at least a little.” Her cheeks warmed. Was it wise to offer to spend more time with him? She waved at the blank page before her. “If anything, I’m too orderly. Look—I can’t write a word until I decide how to organize the list.”
His gaze circled her flat, and his toe tapped on the wooden floor. “Your notebook is orderly, your flat neat, and you even perform your mannerisms with precision.”
“My mannerisms?”
