“Oh, no, my job keeps me securely in my office. Sending me here is an exception.” And Mr. Chapman thought she ought to be done by now. He’d made it clear when he’d seen her picking up the storage trays that his patience for this project was running out. The deceased Galapagos penguins from the zoological society still needed to be dissected, and Mr. Miller needed her to assist. At least they were waiting in preserving fluids so they wouldn’t decompose in the meantime.
A crow cawed as it settled onto a branch of a serviceberry tree, scaring a cedar waxwing away.
Danielle glanced at him and smiled. “Hello, George.” When he cocked his head at her, she laughed, as though he’d said something amusing that only she could hear. So musical was the sound that Elsa and Tatiana laughed with her.
“I’m glad I’ve caught you in a congenial mood.”
Elsa turned to find Guy Spalding striding toward them. Wearing another three-piece suit complete with homburg, he looked all business. Rising, she greeted him. “Those look familiar.” She nodded toward the file folders tucked beneath his arm.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I found these on the table in the dining hall this morning. I recognized one of the ERO documents peeking out from one of the folders, so I took a look. I confess there isn’t much in that old house I’m interested in for myself, but these papers of Uncle Linus’s intrigue me greatly. Thanks for finding them. Since they don’t pertain to your ornithological work, I’m taking them.”
It was certainly his right, and so Elsa could make no objection. Still, she felt uneasy that Mr. Spalding now carried a file that called Danielle feebleminded.
“I thought I heard someone say George a moment ago,” he said. “Is there someone else about?”
“George is the crow,” Danielle told him.
Mr. Spalding peered at George, who stared right back. “I see. At any rate, Mrs. Petrovic, I’ve come looking for you on a matter that concerns you. As you know, I’m donating the entire estate to the county. I’ve had a meeting yesterday with a Mr. Nigel Field from the county.”
Paling, Tatiana stood. “I’ve been waiting to hear from him myself. Our cottage still belongs to us.”
Mr. Spalding huffed a small laugh. “He has no interest in your cottage, I assure you.”
Danielle sat on the bench again, Barney’s head resting on her knee. She watched the birds, but Elsa could tell she was listening to every word Mr. Spalding said.
“In fact, in looking over a map of the estate, he’s quite interested in making these sixty-seven acres a public park and thinks this spot would be ideal for a visitors center.”
“But what does a park mean for their living arrangement? You can’t expect them to leave their home,” Elsa said.
Mr. Spalding tilted his head, regarding her from under the brim of his hat. “That’s entirely out of my hands.”
Danielle started rocking again, moaning at the same time. “We can’t leave. We can’t leave. I won’t go,” she repeated over and over.
George cawed again until more crows joined him in the tree.
Elsa planted a fist on her hip. “What do you propose the Petrovics do now?”
He held up his hands and took a step backward. “That’s none of my concern.”
“It should be your concern, if you have any respect for youraunt’s wishes,” she fired back. “You can’t just leave them without any recourse.”
“I told you, this is out of my hands. Take it up with the county, not me.”
“She’s been trying, but no one from their office has responded to her.” The angst in Elsa’s tone seemed to upset Danielle even more.
“All I can tell you is that you have until the end of the month. At that point, the county will have complete control of the land.”
Danielle’s rocking and moaning grew louder. Barney whined beside her, and the cawing multiplied. “You’re making George angry,” Danielle shouted. She pulled hair from her braids and twisted the strands around her fingers.
Mr. Spalding blinked, brow furrowed. “Are you referring to the crow?”
“George and his friends are angry! They do not want to leave their home. They do not.” The girl hunched over, her hair sticking out between her fingers as she covered her ears.
“Danielle, my dear.” Tatiana touched her shoulders, only to be swatted away by her daughter.
Danielle jumped up, paced to the edge of the garden and back, then began another circuit. She beat the heel of her hand to the side of her head.
“Danielle,” the man murmured, then looked at the file folder he carried.
