14 Birdie #2
The other guys rush back over to Howe. They stand close together, talking in low, urgent voices.
After a minute or two, a big guy in a green T-shirt puts his hand on Howe’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
Howe nods. A shorter guy in blue says something and Howe nods again, noticeably still tense as he pulls out his phone.
I think he’s sending a text. His thumbs type quickly.
Then he’s slipping the phone back in his pocket, walking away with Green Shirt.
They disappear around the corner of the little cottage.
Uneasiness simmers in my gut. Jasper might be a surly grump, but he doesn’t seem like the type to get truly mad for no reason. He just punched an archaeologist! And call me crazy, but I really do think I trust him. If there’s something amiss here, I need to find out what it is.
Taking a deep breath, I head off down the path and call out, waving a hand. “Hello? Professor Howe?”
Blue Shirt sees me first. He’s an older white guy, maybe late fifties, with messy, almond brown hair and a scruffy beard. “Site is closed! You’ll need to come back tomorrow.”
I smile innocently, holding up my pamphlet. “This says the last tour is at five o’clock.”
“Yeah, well no one signed up on time. And the guide just left. Come back tomorrow.”
The guide must be Green Shirt. I hear the sound of an engine revving through the trees before the van takes off. Holding my ground, I turn to Howe, who just reappeared from around the side of the cottage. “I’m actually here to see you.”
His glower softens slightly as he takes me in. He’s still dabbing at his nose. It’s no longer bleeding, but it looks pink and a little puffy. “What can I do for you, Miss . . .?”
“Rhodes.” I hold out my hand. “Virginia Rhodes. But everyone just calls me Birdie. I’m a PhD candidate over at Winthrop in the history department and I’ve been assigned to work as your research assistant for the summer.”
His eyes go wide. “Birdie—oooh.” Ignoring my outstretched hand, he drags his own through his sweaty hair, mussing his bandana.
“Regina Abbott mentioned something about this, right?” He adjusts the bandana, pulling it down around his eyes before flipping it back with his mop of blonde hair.
“Shit, did I miss a meeting or something?”
“No, I just came to introduce myself. She said you agreed to work with me. That’s still true, right?” I pretend to glance interestedly around the site. “I’m so curious to learn more about what you’re doing here and how I can help.”
He winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, your timing is a bit . . . well, that’s to say we’ve been hitting a few roadblocks recently. Work might stay halted while I get it sorted out.”
“Don’t let him intimidate you,” Blue Shirt growls. “The Raven Hill Group won’t fall for his bullshit and neither should you. He can’t stop us now, Ez. Nothing can.”
This is about Jasper. He’s clearly a roadblock to the work here. But why would he want to stop an archaeological dig? What are they looking for out here that would have him so upset? Heart still racing, I keep my expression neutral as I glance between them. “Is something wrong?”
Blue Shirt mutters a curse under his breath. “Ez, I gotta go. Ethan has soccer tonight.”
Howe waves him off. “Oh yeah, go, man. I’ll deal with this.”
Blue Shirt walks off and Howe sighs. “That’s Dale, by the way. Never was much for manners. But he’s a great excavator.”
I watch Dale walk away. “He’s not an archaeologist?”
Howe chuckles. “Digging is a science as much as an art, Birdie. Dale is useful. He may not know much about what he’s digging up, but he’s careful. And affordable. Who knows, maybe I’ll make an archaeologist out of him yet.”
“But you said you expect the work here to stop?”
“Oh, just some petty permitting issues I’m working through. I thought we got it settled today but it looks like we’re still facing some pushback.”
“What happened?”
“The dig site is expanding,” he explains.
“Or at least we’re trying to. On an island as small as this, that’s always gonna ruffle some feathers.
If it’s not some alarmist questioning our erosion mitigation strategies, it’s some nut arguing that we’re disrupting an endangered owl’s mating tree. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Is that what Jasper is? An environmental nut upset about a few trees? Doesn’t seem likely. I glance around again. “Well, you have me for the summer. But I’ll warn you that I’m more of an archive historian. I typically prefer dusty volumes to dusty bones.”
Howe’s eyes light up at this. “Hey, that’s perfect. Just because work might slow out here for a bit doesn’t mean all momentum has to stop.”
I’m still wary, but I nod. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll see it gets done.”
He smiles. Unlike Jasper, he makes expressions with his whole face. The smile shines in his pale blue eyes. “Birdie, you’re a lifesaver. Oh shit, can I call you Birdie? Do you need me to do the formal ‘Ms. Rhodes’ thing?”
I laugh. “No, Birdie is fine.”
“Great. Well, we’re pretty informal out here if you hadn’t noticed. You can call me Ezra. Or Ez.”
I offer out my hand again. “Ezra it is.”
This time he takes it, and we shake. “Let’s meet tomorrow at the archives, yeah? I’ll walk you through everything.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Great. Nine o’clock?” As we talk, his phone rings. Glancing down at the caller ID, he grimaces. “I’m sorry, but I really have to take this.”
“Please do.” I step back out of the way. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya, Birdie.” He barely gets the words out before he’s turning away, phone to his ear. “This is Howe. Yeah, put me through. We’ve got a serious fucking problem.” He walks off too quickly for me to hear any more, but I know this is about the argument he just had with Jasper.
I walk back to the Jeep, my mind spinning like a top.
God, this is just freaking perfect. This was supposed to be my Summer of Yes.
Morning runs on the hiking trails, midnight movies, cats in picnic baskets.
But now I have a research fellowship I can’t turn down with a man currently feuding with my boss.
What is Jasper going to say when he finds out I’m working for Howe?
Worse, what’s he going to do?