—
“Can work wait a teeny bit longer?” said Isaac, when they were showered and dressed, Cleo headed to the office and Isaac to the public library.
“Ugh, why?” said Cleo, trying to close her overstuffed case.
“I thought we could take a quick spin around the reservoir?”said Isaac, putting his binoculars and his camera around his neck. “Word is we might spot a Cerulean Warbler.”
“It’s a detour but OK,” said Cleo. “I’ll have to make it up tonight.”
“My parents are coming for dinner anyway,” said Isaac. “Just join for dessert if you can.”
“I’ll try,” said Cleo.
“I know,” said Isaac.
Cleo grabbed her own set of binoculars. Her sisters had gifted them matching Swarovskis as an engagement gift. Isaac’s parents had thrown them a beautiful party, and Hannah had clasped Cleo’s shoulders and said, “You call me Mom now, Cleopatra.”
“Yes,” said Cleo.
“My friends and I have a book club and everybody brings their daughters. First Wednesday of the month,” said Hannah.
“I’ll be there, every month,” said Cleo.
“OK, then,” said Hannah.
“Thanks, Mom,” said Cleo, surprising herself by tearing up. Her own mother had not made it to her engagement party or sent a card.
“This month the book is calledChoosing a Jewish Life,” said Hannah. “It’s my month, and that’s the book I picked.”
“I’ll order a copy tonight,” said Cleo.
“No need,” said Hannah, handing her a bag from Barnes & Noble.
—
Isaac took her hand as they left their apartment and headed across Central Park West into the park. It was a bright day, the sky as blue as the Caribbean Sea. Cleo told Isaac about the pro bono case she was focused on: a man in jail who was refusing a plea deal, insisting he had not shot his wife, despite numerous eyewitness accounts that he had been in the room when she died. Isaacsuggested Cleo have her client’s clothing tested for gunpowder residue; maybe there had been another person in the room. (This advice would free the man from prison; the lack of residue on his clothes inspired Cleo to find more eyewitnesses, one of whom named another shooter, who was convicted.)
They paused when they reached the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, taking in the Manhattan skyline and the water, the trees, and the sun.
“Cleo, look!” cried Isaac.
Cleo put her binoculars to her eyes and scanned the trees around them. She saw the female Cerulean Warbler, magnificent. “Oh,” she sighed, taking in the bird’s bluish-green head, the yellow stripes around its eyes. “She’s looking right at me,” said Cleo.
Isaac lifted his Nikon and focused. He clicked the shutter and smiled—capturing the elusive bird.
EMMA
First, the legal looting. Before the Mumberton Castle fire consumed the roof, firefighters and troops from local army barracks grabbed what they could: precious (and not so precious) artwork, furniture, antiques, swords, and birds of prey, rehomed to a nearby aviary.
Second, the rain and the trash. Rich commandeered crews to remove thousands of bins of debris, which was combed through to make sure no treasures were discarded. In what he would call “the most important job of my life,” Rich found locals who knew more than he did, retired men who held priceless knowledge: how to rebuild leaded windows, hand-fit oak roof timber, and re-plaster ornate ceilings. These men—they were all men—trained Rich’s younger staff. If the Brits resented an American in charge, they kept it to themselves. Rich’s boundless enthusiasm and Simon’s deep pockets endeared Rich to the artisans and laborers he relied upon. Rebuilding Mumberton would take a decade, but it would be done, and beautifully. The cause of the fire was ruled undetermined, and every single lock in the castle was replaced. Could it possibly be true that the door to the Indigo Suite was old andlocked itself? Emma had never trusted Louisa Freck, but couldn’t find a reason not to believe her when she insisted she had never locked the door. Still, sometimes Emma woke in the middle of the night and wondered if Louisa was lying. It was an unsettling idea, and there was no point in dwelling on it.
—
One morning, Emma found herself with nothing to do. Guinness and Jameson were at school, and Rich spent his days happily shuttling between the castle grounds and his home office. Emma went for a walk in the rain, which had continued unabated for much of the spring, after a winter less dark than Montana’s winter but just as cold.
Emma ambled toward the estuary. Her coffee, the salt smell, the rain. She closed her eyes and began to assemble a profile: She would utilize a form of Japanese snowbell oil called benzoin that made a fragrance warm and woody, exuding leather undertones like a brand-new glove out of a Harrods box. Chanel, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Hermès, and Prada had made fragrances with benzoin; it inspired serenity and made someone wearing it feel elegant.
Emma reached the estuary and gazed at the water. Women in the Middle Ages had carried pomanders filled with rose petals, ambergris, or violet root powder. Emma breathed in deeply through her nose. She would rush home and write down the scent profile she would call “Mumberton.” The Mumberton Pomade necklace would be the first product from Peacock Perfumery.
