“Coming from you, that means more than I can say,” John responded, and she thought she saw a light pink wash creep over his cheekbones. Ora had spent many years learning how to suppress her laughter, knowing her naturally youthful giggle would give the men around her even more ammunition to treat her without seriousness, but it was more challenging than usual at this moment. How funny it was that this big, strong, gifted man could be made nervous by a little widow ornithologist’s compliments and light flirting.
She needed to focus on the work, though, not any growing affection between them. “Speaking of your illustrations…” Ora took the watercolor of the bird he’d sent her from her bag and laid it upon the desk. “I’m so glad you reached out to me about this,” she said. “I have never seen anything quite like it, especially in this part of the world.”
“Please don’t become too invested,” he said quickly. “I keep worrying I mistook what I saw and that you’ve come all this way to find a rather vivid cardinal or some such.”
“Even if this isn’t a new species but a variation of another, that’s still a fantastic discovery,” she assured him. “Or if it’s a species we know about but isn’t often found here, that too would be worthy of study. As long as I catch a glimpse of our mystery bird, I’m certain I can’t leave here disappointed.” It was one of the reasons she was so comfortable giving up the cataloging project; no matter what the bird wound up being—a new species or a variation of a known one—she would come away with enough material for a new article that would get the ornithological community talking about the merits of her work instead of if she deserved to be doing it at all.
“Right.” John cleared his throat. “So, ah, where shall we start?”
With the search for this bird, the more logical part of Ora’s mind quickly responded as the less focused part drifted in another direction completely. “We? You are planning on accompanying me?”
“Oh. Yes. That is, if you— I needn’t if you prefer, of course. But I thought you might find it…useful?” Something about the way he stumbled through his words was so charming—even more than the smooth self-assuredness Ora was used to from Guy, or the quiet confidence of her late husband.
“I would find your company very useful, indeed,” she hurried to assure him. “Not to mention delightful, I am sure.”
At this John’s smile grew wider, more natural, and Ora mentally patted herself on the back, applauding her idea to have abandoned the tedium and harassment of the office to come out here where she would not only change the trajectory of her career but, if all continued in this direction, perhaps her entire life.
TEN
Callahan
There are nosirens in the vicinity or smoke billowing from the windows as I park behind the building. That’s a good sign. When Annie failed to respond to my text asking if everything was going all right in my absence, I kind of assumed the worst. But as I stop in the doorway separating the back hallway from the showroom and find her at the counter beaming at a couple in their early sixties, the jitteriness of my anxiety finally subsides. She must have been occupied with customers. A much more logical explanation for why she didn’t reply, I can admit now, than that she was incapacitated while the building burned down around her.
The man reaches out to shake Annie’s hand, and she holds up her bandaged palm with a small laugh that rounds and pinkens her cheeks in such a lovely way that my jitteriness returns. Smiling, the couple thanks her again and leaves.
Once the front door has closed behind them, I walk over toAnnie, who is looking down at whatever she’s written on my legal pad.
“Did you sell something?” I ask, and she jolts in surprise.
“Oh, Jesus,” she says, clutching her chest. “You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me.”
“Hello.”
Her startled expression relaxes into a smile that’s wide and serene, the way it was the first time I saw her. Before I earned her ire. “Hi.”
“So…?” I prompt.
“Hmm?”
“I asked if you sold something.”
“Oh! Yes. Yes, I did.” The satisfaction on her face is unmistakable. A big-ticket item, maybe? Before I can ask, she holds up the legal pad. “Several somethings, actually,” she says. I have to redirect my focus from the excited energy radiating from her to the lined page. But when I finally do, my lips part and my eyebrows thread together.
“I’m sorry, does that total at the bottom say forty thousand dollars? Or am I misreading the number of zeroes there?”
“You aren’t misreading anything.”
No fucking wonder she’s so happy.
“All to the couple that just left?”
She nods like the old oriole bird bobblehead that’s sat on a shelf in the back office ever since I can remember. “They’re opening a bed-and-breakfast in Pennsylvania apple country and need to furnish it. Guess a lot of what we have was to their taste . And they weren’t even in town to come here, they just stopped in because the window caught their eye when they were driving past.” Annie’s grin spreads with each word as she adds, “Told. You. So.”
“You sure did.” I almost blurt out that I’m starting to think she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to this place. Maybe the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But that sentiment is surely just an overexaggerated response to the good news, and an intensely unprofessional one at that. Instead, I conclude with a much safer, much more appropriate, “Great job, Annie! That’s really amazing.”
“I also sold three hundred dollars’ worth of china to a different customer, but that feels like small potatoes in comparison, doesn’t it?” She steps out from behind the counter, coming closer to me. “Bet you feel pretty stupid right now,” she says. “Having underestimated me.”
“I have definitely been an idiot,” I say, my voice quieter than I intend it as I catch the scent of her perfume. Fig, I think, and something else dark and sensual that acts as a fascinating contrast to her natural effervescence.
