Chapter 16 #2
Archer spread his hands. “She’s fine, isn’t she? Ivy made it back all right, too, I guess?”
Luke opened the driver’s side door and waited while Archer got inside before slamming it shut. “That risk was not acceptable.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Elsa, you want to add anything?”
“Only that we were followed by a strange man right onto the subway car, gave him the slip, and took a taxi home instead. Yes, I think that covers it.”
As if he’d just heard this for the first time, tendons pulled taut in Luke’s neck. He turned to Archer, who peeled away before Luke could say or do more, pebbles spraying behind the rear wheels.
Elsa stared after the dazzling convertible until it rolled out of view. “He didn’t even say he was sorry,” she murmured. “He was probably too afraid of your fists to stick around, but . . . I can’t believe he just left like that after what I said.”
“It’s a good thing he did. I was ready to pound him.
” Luke shook his head and breathed deeply, expanding his already broad chest. “I’ve worked for years to control my temper.
But so help me, if I see that rat again I don’t know what I’ll do.
” A lump shifted in his throat as he cleared it.
“What exactly is the nature of your relationship with this Archer character?”
“He’s a colleague. Up until now, I considered him a friend. Now I wonder if I can call him that. That isn’t how you treat friends.”
“No, it isn’t. Do you believe he came here to make amends with you?”
A beat of quiet followed until Elsa admitted, “He came for the aviary. He said so himself.”
“Do you trust he wants it for Danielle?”
She bit her lip. “I want to believe the best of people, but his behavior lately makes that a challenge. Hopefully your question is a moot point now. I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.” Luke took her hand in his calloused one. “I never asked how the walking went on Coney Island. How far did you go?”
“Far enough to do some good, I hope.”
The steel in his eyes flashed with understanding. “Far enough to hurt.” After she nodded, he pressed, “And your lungs? How did your breathing do?”
“We were only walking, no running this time. I promise.” She smiled.
He didn’t. “Tell me.”
She inhaled the clean, pine-scented air as she recalled the hustle to the Stillwell station. “I was winded, but Ivy was with me.”
His thumb circled the back of her hand. “I admire that you’re pushing yourself to grow stronger. Just be reasonable about the pace you set for yourself, all right?”
A trio of Canada geese honked and soared overhead.
“I want to fly, Luke,” she told him. “Ever since I was a little girl confined to bed, told I may never walk again, I’ve wanted to know what it would feel like to be fast and light in the air, like all these birds I’ve spent my life studying.
But I’ve decided to content myself with keeping both feet on the ground.
I want to walk and not faint. What could be more reasonable than that? ”
Elsa’s body proved less than cooperative.
After three trips to the second floor to bring the remaining birds down to the dining hall, both legs ached—the weak one from the pain, and the strong one from compensating for it.
Pulse still throbbing, she stood at the table and unpacked the box she’d brought down.
The dining hall table was large enough to seat twenty people.
Eating here must have felt lonely for the Van Tessels with all these empty chairs, but at the moment Elsa was grateful for the space.
She spread the birds out in rows by color since that was how they’d been ordered when she collected them from the rooms. Now that her fresh ledger had been alphabetized, it would be a snap to find the entry and make a matching catalog tag for each bird.
“Now we’re on the trolley,” Elsa murmured once all three hundred birds were lined up and ready for proper identification at last. Circling the table to begin, she caught a glimpse of movement outside the window.
Tatiana and Danielle were coming this way from the direction of their cottage. A wicker basket swung from Tatiana’s arm.
Elsa waved, but they didn’t see her. Ignoring her body’s protests, she walked to the corridor and outside to the covered veranda. “What a nice surprise! Please, come in!”
Tatiana smiled. “Thank you, dear, but we’d better not.”
Danielle kicked at a pebble.
“The family isn’t here right now,” Elsa reassured them. Wesley’s Packard remained parked in the drive, but neither he nor Jane were in the mansion at present.
“All the same. We’ve just come to bring you some refreshment in case you’re hungry.”
How on earth had Tatiana managed to think of that, when her own concerns were greater? Elsa was humbled by this woman. No wonder Birdie had cared for the Petrovics so much.
“That sounds wonderful,” Elsa said. “I have some things to show Danielle, too. Why don’t we visit in the courtyard?”
When Tatiana and Danielle agreed, Elsa convinced them to simply walk through the house to reach the courtyard behind it, rather than meandering all the way around.
“I need to pick something up from the dining hall. I’d be happy to show you what I’m working on right now, if you’d like to see it.”
Danielle nodded. “I want to see.”
Elsa drew a deep breath and hoped she hadn’t made a misstep with this offer.
Danielle had been upset about the birds leaving the mansion before.
Seeing them laid out might trigger more dismay.
On the other hand, Danielle may feel better if she understood more about Elsa’s work with the museum and saw them for herself one last time.
With a smile, she ushered them into the dining hall and prayed the Spalding siblings wouldn’t return soon enough to interrupt them. “You’re so good at classifying things, Danielle. Let me show you what I’m doing.”
Tatiana rested the basket on the floor and stood back, hands folded, as if afraid to touch anything.
“They’re still grouped by color,” Danielle observed. “Miss Birdie did that for me. Red belongs with red, I told her. Blue with blue. Green with green. Yellows together, and blacks on their own. Every color should be separate.”
Elsa smiled. She hadn’t realized that Danielle was Birdie’s interior decorating muse. “It’s striking to see the colors together like that. May I show you how we order things for the museum?”
Danielle flicked a gaze at Elsa. “Yes.”
Elsa explained the habitat groups inside the museum, with groups of birds based on geographic location. “But in the catalogs, like this one, they are alphabetized by their Latin names.” She went on to explain that each bird would be assigned a number and a tag to match it to its field data.
Frowning, Danielle peered at the ledger Elsa showed her, and then at the rows of birds. “They don’t match up. They’re not in order.”
“That’s all right. I can look at the bird on the table and then locate it in the chart very easily by its name, now that this is alphabetized.”
Tatiana brushed a loose thread from her skirt. “What will happen to the birds once they move into their new home?” she asked. “Will other children have the chance to see them, too?”
Elsa appreciated the thoughtful prompt. “Yes. Children come every day—and grown-ups, too—so they can see things they wouldn’t normally. They will love Miss Birdie’s collection, I’m sure.”
“That is what she would have wanted. Isn’t it, sweetheart?” Tatiana rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “This is why she wrote it in her will that the museum should have the birds. To share them with many, many others, so they wouldn’t go to waste.”
Danielle pursed her lips but didn’t argue. She pulled a strand of hair around her finger and twisted it round and round.
“Ready to see what I brought you?” Elsa picked up her scrapbook and an issue of Bird-Lore and led the Petrovics outside to the courtyard.
She handed Danielle the magazine. “You already know so much about birds’ scientific names and their migration patterns and songs. This magazine will tell you even more about the birds’ personalities. What they do that makes them special.”
“Like the bowerbirds, whose favorite color is blue.”
“Exactly. I brought you an entire box of them to do with whatever you wish. You might simply read them, or you could cut them up and rearrange the illustrations or information any way you like.” She opened her scrapbook on her lap.
“I made this when I was a child. It kept me entertained for hours and hours.”
“Oh, be careful, Danielle,” Tatiana warned as the child began handling the pages.
But Danielle took care to turn them slowly, and from the outside corner only. Though she was quiet as she looked, her expression held an intense curiosity that proved her interest.
“That was so kind of you to bring these things, dear,” Tatiana said. “Are you sure you want to part with an entire box of magazines?”
“I’m sure.”
“What do you say, Danielle?”
“Thank you.” She didn’t look up, still focused on the magazine.
“You’re very welcome. I’m delighted to share them with you.”
The French door opened, and Luke stepped outside, shutting it behind him. “I thought I heard voices. It’s good to see you both again.”
Tatiana practically cheered at the sight of him, then dug into her basket, handing him and Elsa each a jar of honey. “I’ve had some busy bees this season,” she explained.
The sound of shouting drew their attention toward the parlor.
“Where were you?” Jane asked her brother.
“Out. Same as you.”
“Out treasure-hunting, you mean. I thought we agreed to search the outbuildings together. But as soon as I turned around, you were gone.”
“Don’t be droll . . .”
Elsa shook her head, wondering if they had gone so far as to search the Petrovics’ cottage for the aviary. “Have they bothered you yet, Tatiana?” She kept her voice low.
“No. Not those two. We did have an unexpected visitor this morning, but it wasn’t one of them.”