“Right, yes, I actually remember Cal telling me about this. He popped out for a minute but should be back soon if you need help carrying things to your vehicle?” My eyes jump back and forth between her and my generous spenders apologetically, hoping she understands why I’m not volunteering to help her myself.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I brought plenty of muscle. We should be fine if you don’t mind us helping ourselves.” Makayla points her thumb over her shoulder at two men in the cabin of a small box truck parked out front, presumably waiting for her signal to proceed around back to the alley.
“Oh, sure. Just let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” Makayla pulls out her phone again and heads for the front door.
As the bells jingle, signaling her exit, I speed walk to the storage room to unlock the roll-up door, then return to Jim and Madge. “Sorry about that,” I say. “Surprisingly busy today!”
“No problem,” Jim says.
Madge places her hand atop the sideboard they went to check out. “We’ve actually changed our minds,” she says.
My mental record player scratches, ironically breaking my stride as my stomach drops, the feeling of doom suddenly weighing it down. Ugh. Farewell to the idea of selling enough to make Cal forget every doubt he ever had about my competence; if he ever learns that I blew this massive sale, he’ll consider it proof of his misgivings and never let me speak to a customer ever again.
“Instead of that first dining table, we’re going to go with the eight-person one that’s the same style as this credenza. And then also the two armchairs, the oak armoire we looked at first thing, the headboard in the corner…” She pauses, exchanges a speaking glance with her husband, and throws up her hands in playful exasperation. “And that big painting of the rectangular cow Jim liked. Might as well, right?”
Holy shit. My stomach bounces back up, still feeling a little off-kilter (but in a much less unpleasant way). The music resumes its loop in my brain and I have to stop myself from wiggling my hips to the beat as my responding grin stretches so far it feels like it tests the limits of my face.
“Wonderful!” I say. “I’m so glad you found what you were looking for here. Let me go grab some sold tags and we’ll get everything squared away.”
Catoctin, Maryland— September 1908
Morse deposited Oraand her bags at the town’s small inn. It was run by a formidable woman named Mrs. Kingston, who told her she looked parched and pressed a glass of fizzy water into her hand before she was allowed to settle in. Ora suspected this was mostly an excuse to be able to tell her all the local gossip about the eccentric owner of the Fountain Seltzer Company, who apparently lived up on the hill overlooking the town. Finally, she was released from the involuntary tête-à-tête when a young porter appeared to help with her luggage. He showed her to a modest but spotless room on the second floor, where she quickly splashed water on her face and repinned her drooping hair before donning the less elaborate hat she favored for fieldwork. She’d promised Morse that she would join him at his newspaper office down the block once she had settled in, and she found herself eager to meet again. To learn more about this bird he saw, of course. Not at all for any other reason.
When she entered theCitizen’s office, she was hit with therich, sweet smell of ink and paper. It was pleasant but strong, almost cloying. “Do you not get headaches from the scent in here?” she asked Morse, who rose politely from the chair behind his desk as soon as he registered her presence.
“I grew used to it a very long time ago,” he said with a small shrug of one shoulder. “My father was a printer.”
“Yes, you said in one of your letters. I suppose ink is in your veins, then.”
The mention of the letters brought a tilt to the corner of Morse’s lips, and Ora could not resist following the movement.
“Please, do have a seat, Dr. Worthy,” he said, pulling out the chair positioned across from his desk.
“Perhaps we can dispose of the formalities? Call me Ora.” She glanced up from beneath her eyelashes in a way that Guy had once told her was the most alluring move she had in her arsenal. Mr. Morse must have agreed, because despite his outward composure, she fancied she could see his resulting swallow even beneath the high collar of his white shirt.
“Then you must call me John,” he responded.
“It would be my pleasure.”
Perhaps she was flattering herself, but he seemed transfixed by that word coming from her lips. Then he appeared to recall himself and began searching through the stack of papers on his desk. “Ah. Here. I have drawn a map of some of the locations around town where I have spotted the bird.”
Ora looked it over, admiring again John Otis Morse’s artistic talent even with something so simple as a sketched survey of the area. Admiration soon gave way to curiosity, and she decided that the map was actually quite strange.
“You saw it in this field, and in these woods, and along theriver here?” she asked, tracing each marked location with her fingertip.
John took a moment to respond, and she once again guessed that her presence was flustering this otherwise stoic man. “Yes. I did see it in those three locations. Only once, except for the woods, where I’ve seen it thrice.”
“Hmm.” It was odd that the bird should favor such different milieus. Not unheard of, though. “Do you believe it was the same one, or could it have been others of the same species?”
“It’s difficult to tell,” he said slowly. “Not having seen anything like it before and being far from the expert you are, I’m not sure I could say. Though I tend to suspect it’s just the one. It certainly does look the same each time. No variation at all, to my eye.”
“Well, I know your eye to be a very respectable and observant witness, so I agree it’s likely just the one.” Ora glanced up in time to see an odd expression on John’s face. Had she embarrassed him with her praise?
“You’re too kind,” he said, bowing his head slightly.
“No need to be modest with me. You are perhaps the most talented illustrator of the natural world I have ever encountered.”
