Page 35 of Found Objects

“Who is this stunningly beautiful creature?” he asked, marveling at my winged friend but not daring to reach out and touch her. “Is she a peregrine falcon?”

“No.” I grimaced. The fact that he knew something about birds was potentially problematic. “She’s a gyrfalcon.”

“Is she really?”

“Yeah.”

“Where did you get her?”

“She was hurt, and I found her when I was visiting the coast years ago.”

“And she’s been with you ever since?”

Thankfully, he didn’t ask me which coast. “She has.”

“She doesn’t fly away?”

“She does, but she always comes back.”

“May I pet her?”

Her talons tightened on my shoulder. “Apparently so, but gently.”

“Of course.” He reached out, curling his fingers in, and slowly ran the backs of them down the length of the feathers on her side. “Oh, Mere, she’s so beautiful.”

He was the beautiful one, and he smelled like oakmoss and smoke from a smoldering fire, and musk and sandalwood, and it took everything in me not to lean in and breathe deep.

“What’s her name?”

“Ondine.” I barely got it out.

“I’ve never seen one up close. She’s just…breathtaking.”

“Man, you’re gonna give her a big head, and she already thinks she’s the goddess’s gift to the world, so…”

“The goddess’s gift?”

I shook my head. “Just come in,” I invited him, lifting my shoulder to get Ondine to move to no avail. She was not budging.

Cole did what everyone did when I stepped aside and allowed people to cross my threshold—he stood and stared.

It was beautiful inside, and it should have been for how long I’d worked on it. The house wasn’t square, it was round, and from the outside, with the curved glass and petrified wood, it resembled a jar. Winding stairs went up to the second floor, where the library and my gallery of paintings were, along with a beautiful bedroom that had been meticulously curated over many years. There were no stairs to ascend any higher, but up another level, there was a ledge built on the right that was closed on three sides but had no door, only a cozy loft space where, sometimes, Teague could be found. He had asked for a space with me, but it had to be inaccessible to anyone but him, and I had granted that request.

The vast first floor, five thousand square feet, was where my bedroom and bathroom were, as well as another spare bedroom and adjoining bathroom. I had built the kitchen along one wall of the opalized petrified wood that also made up the floor. There was a guest bathroom, a huge, curved fireplace, currently lit and the only stone in the home, and an enormous sectional that made a giant, squared-off U that framed it. I had thick rugs on the floors, great specimens of Navajo weaving, and both knitted and crocheted blankets that had been gifts from my servers over the years.

“Holy shit, Mere, this is amazing. Christ, I thought your restaurant was beautiful, but this is… Do you give tours here?”

“Funny,” I grumbled, before I took the food to the kitchen and told him to go ahead and look around.

You could stand in the center and see everything, and there was another area opposite the hearth with a rocking chair and a smaller overstuffed couch next to a table and a reading lamp that looked out on a small clearing. There were trees all around it, so it felt like you were in your own private space, and the window ledge was wide enough to sit on, bookended by two walls made of the same petrified wood filled with ammonites and opals.

Cole, who had slipped his shoes off just inside the front door, now lay down on the smaller couch and stretched out, flipping on the lamp, as it was dark and cloudy outside.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked him.

“I am, but I have an overwhelming desire to take a nap here and—wait.”

“What?” I took a sip of the café de olla Lupe had sent for me.