Chapter 7 Alexander
Alexander
I hang back watching the reunion of Peter and his parents.
I could have left. Maybe I should have, but there is just something intriguing about this woman whose name I haven’t even gotten.
Her hair is a dozen different colors, ranging from rich brown to gold, with her wild curls really showing off in the sunshine.
Then there were her pale green eyes when she first really looked at me.
They were captivating and best of all, they didn’t show a hint of recognition.
To be fair, she was in the middle of something pretty important, but still.
She looks over her shoulder and finds me watching.
I smile because I have no shame. She walks over to me, and I take the opportunity to check her out, starting with her white sneakers, moving up over her sage green sundress, finally landing on her beautiful face.
She’s giving me a crooked smile and shaking her head.
“I saw that,” she says as she reaches my side.
“I wanted you to.”
She shakes her head and smiles again, looking back toward her family. “Thanks again. I had seen those boys playing soccer—”
“Football.”
“Yes, I know.” She rolls her eyes at me, and I love it. “Anyway, I had seen them, but had somehow missed that he was with them. So I’m glad I ran into you. Literally.”
“Me too.” So glad. “And I’m glad I was able to help. I don’t have any little ones in my life, but I know that must have been incredibly scary.”
“Yeah, it’s not something I’m aching to relive.”
We stand in silence for a moment, her eyes back on her family. “Might I ask your name?”
She looks back up at me and the way the sun hits her face would make a Hollywood light designer faint at the beauty. “I’m Ivy.” She extends her hand to shake, and I shock myself by bringing it to my lips and kissing it gently. Maybe I’ve lived in the U.S. for too long.
“A pleasure to meet you, beautiful Ivy.”
She holds back a smile, and I can tell she is doing her best not to be charmed. “Is this an English thing, or is this just who you are?” Definitely not an English thing.
I shrug. “Aren’t you going to ask for my name?”
“Will you expect me to kiss your hand if I do?”
This draws out a surprised laugh from me. “It’s a requirement here in England. When you meet someone, but only learn their name later, you must kiss their hand upon introduction.”
“That is an interesting custom. Clearly, I have a lot to learn.”
“Clearly you do.”
“One thing I don’t need to learn is your name.”
I place my hand over my heart. “That hurts. Not to mention that you won’t know how to label the contact when you put my number in your phone.”
“You’re awfully presumptuous, Alexander Henry.”
I squint at her accusingly. “So you know who I am.”
“I do live on Earth.”
She’s funny. “It’s just not impressive to you that I'm a famous actor?”
“I’m not saying you aren’t great at what you do. I’ve just never been one to think celebrities are any more important than anyone else. I mean, my brother-in-law is great at his job, but does anyone know who he is? Or care? No.”
Ah, okay, this I can work with. This I kind of like. I’m about to respond when the girl, Peter’s sister, I assume, walks over.
“Hey, mister. I’m Juniper.”
“Hello, Juniper. Lovely to meet you. I’m Alexander.”
“Ohh! A real English person! The only one we’ve met so far was at the hotel and he was cranky. And didn’t really talk to us.”
“Alexander is the one who found Peter,” Ivy says as her sister and brother-in-law walk up with Peter.
Peter looks thoroughly chastised and doesn’t look in my direction, but both his parents do a double take. I laugh, then elbow Ivy lightly in the ribs. “Some people are impressed,” I whisper toward her. “I take it my disguise isn’t working,” I say to the group.
“You should grow a handlebar mustache,” Ivy suggests, the glint in her eye making my smile grow.
I extend my hand to the sister. “Hello, I’m Alexander.” Then to her husband—we shake, and then he introduces himself and his wife, who is openly staring, her gaze bouncing around between me and her sister.
“A pleasure meeting you both. I was wondering, could I borrow Ivy for a bit?”
Her gaze, which had previously been on the children, swings up to me. “What?” she asks, eyes wide.
“Of course you can,” her sister, Val, answers.
Ivy turns on her sister. “Excuse me? You’d send me off with a stranger?”
“You’ll be fine.” She shrugs and grins, then turns to me. “We have dinner reservations at six; maybe have her back to the hotel by five?”
“Y’all stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
“Would you like to take a walk with me, Ivy?” I ask.
She shakes her head and smiles at me, because apparently that’s the only reaction I can elicit from her. I make it my goal to get at least one smile without a shaking head.
“Sure. Let’s walk.”
“I’ll buy my own ice cream,” Ivy insists as we stand in line inside an old-fashioned ice cream parlor.
We’d walked to the far side of the park and continued onward into the streets where we found this place.
I learned that she’s from the foothills of North Carolina.
She owns a restaurant that recently burnt down, and she hates cockroaches.
I still don’t understand how that fact even came up.
“I insist. You owe me this honor,” I begin, and she raises her eyebrows. “Because I found Peter.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Are you sure? Because I plan on getting a waffle cone. That’s extra.”
“I think I can swing that. You could even get a second scoop.”
“Wow. Maybe you are impressive.” She pats my shoulder and steps to the counter.
She orders her raspberry vanilla waffle cone and I order my pistachio in a cup. We find a seat at an outdoor table.
Her hair calls to me, and I reach up to twirl a curl on my finger, but she bats me away.
“What are you doing?”
“Remember, I found Peter.”
“You already said that once and I’m afraid that’s all you get.” She shrugs. “You should have used it more wisely.”
She is so cute. I want to count her freckles. “Okay. But just so you know, you can touch my hair anytime.”
“Thank you for that kind offer. Your hat is blocking the way though, and if you took it off, you’d have hat hair, and I’m not going to touch hat hair. So I guess not.”
“What I’m hearing you say is I shouldn’t wear a hat next time I see you.
” In my periphery, I see a group of women staring.
I angle said hat down, although I’m not sure it helps.
We were stopped three times in the park, and the teenage boy who made our ice cream stuttered and shook.
Maybe it wasn’t in response to me, but for his sake, I hope it was.
“You think there should be a next time? I’m not sure how your girlfriend would feel about that.” She licks her cone and I have to avert my eyes.
“Ah. Well, you see … this can’t go any further than this table, but our relationship isn’t real. Our agents set it up. I like her very much; she’s become a close friend, but that’s it. She’s actually seeing someone she went to high school with. And she isn’t really my type.”
Ivy squints her eyes at me as if she were trying to use x-ray vision to see the truth. “I thought Grey Blankenship was everyone’s type.”
“I’m more interested in women who are not easily impressed. With wild curls and bright emerald eyes.” I take a bite of my ice cream.
She nods. “That’s oddly specific. Good luck with that search.”
“I have a good feeling about it.” I do. But I can’t help but think about our geographical differences.
Since moving to Hollywood, I always assumed I would end up with someone who lived out that way.
That would be simple, and if Ivy wasn’t so intriguing, I might simply tell her it was nice meeting her and go about my business.
But there is something about her that tells me she might be worth whatever compromise or concession I’d have to make in order to keep her in my life. Or try to.
We finish our ice cream and continue walking and talking, ending up at her hotel. I don’t want to let her go, but it’s the end of the road for me for now.
“It’s been an absolute pleasure,” I say, hoping she sees how much I mean it. “Could I have your number?”
“What for?” She smiles. She is giving me a hard time.
“So perhaps I’ll have the chance to look into those beautiful green eyes again.”
I am sitting in what had been our family’s favorite room in our house. It was where we watched movies and hung out together. It was also where mum had an entire wall covered in family photos. The rest of the house was dedicated to art and cultivated design, but the living room was ours.
I stand to look through the pictures, assuming the pain of their loss will come, but like this morning, I found happiness upon seeing them.
A photo in a simple gold frame catches my eye and I do a double take.
I’m maybe two years old, wearing a party hat.
I’m sitting in Mum’s lap, and she looks so carefree and beautiful.
If I was two, this must have been her thirtieth birthday.
This is the answer to the first riddle. It’s a restaurant nearby that we went to frequently growing up and would go to almost every time I came home to visit.
I snap a photo and send it to Mr. Crawley.
He informs me that I actually have to go to the places when I solve the riddles.
After dinner, I do so, but I’m not immediately given the next one.
He’d said it may not be right away, so while I’m not surprised, I am disappointed.
Instead of having a new riddle to ponder, I’m left with only thoughts of the mesmerizing Ivy to keep me company.
I needed the riddle to keep me from getting in touch with her too soon.