“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 notsurprised, Iamdisappointed. 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.
8
Ivy
We’reeatingdinnerina dimly lit pub close to our hotel. Earlier, when I’d arrived back at the hotel, I’d avoided talking about the afternoon, ducking into the bathroom to get ready. I wasn’t ready to talk. I needed to sort through my feelings. Still do, but as I lower my menu, having taken as long as a person possibly can to look at a two-page, well-spaced list of food, I meet my sister’s hazel eyes.
“Alright. You cannot keep us in suspense any longer. Tell us all about it. Was he as nice as they make him seem? What did he say? Tell us everything.”
I sigh. And before I can speak, Juniper jumps in. “Is he strong like that superhero he played in that movie?”
“You haven’t even seenthat movie.” I laugh. “I have noevidence to say he is strong like a superhero.” At Juniper's disappointment, I add. “I also have no evidence that he isn’t.”
“I bet he is. Did you see how big he is? And he’s taller than Dad. And Dad is tall!”
“I did notice.” It was hard not to. And how he thinks wearing a hat and glasses will disguise him in the least is beyond me. But I guess you have to try. “He was extremely nice and seemed genuine. He was a good listener and asked good questions, like he actually cared about what I had to say. Honestly, that was the most surprising thing. I assumed someone like him would be a bit self-important.”
“Why did he want to go on a walk with you?” Val asks, then we all pause as our server sets our drinks on the table. “Thank you.”
“The better question is, whywouldn’the want to go on a walk with me?” I joke.
“Because you’re a girl and he doesn’t know you at all,” Peter supplies, helpfully.
His parents laugh, but I look at him seriously. “That’s a good point.”
“This is crazy. You’ll never forget the day you met Alexander Henry,” Val says, shaking her head.
“It may not just be a day. He asked for my number.”
“What?” My sister exclaims at the same time Micah says, “Are you serious?”
I nodded. “Who knows, he might get in touch. He might not.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter, and really I know it doesn’t. There is nowhere we could go beyond London acquaintances. But I enjoyed spending time with him, and I’m not gonna lie, it felt good to have such a handsome man show interest in me.
Of course, I didn’t give him a lot of reason to contact me. I did my typical. Gave him attitude in an effort to protect myself. I’ve spent my adult life thinking I’d be better on my own. I couldn’t imagine putting my trust in someone, until recently, that is. Still, I’m not certain it’s the right move for me. And if it is, I know it isn’t with someone who lives across the Atlantic.
“Are you gonna call him?” Val asks.
“He didn’t give me his number.” Probably because I didn’t ask.
“Let’s walk to see Big Ben,” I suggest. “It’s always pretty at night in the movies.”
We’re standing outside the pub, each of us knowing we are far from sleep. The five-hour time difference will probably get us until we leave. Even the kids are bouncing up and down. Eight p.m. at home and they are both dragging. Eight p.m. here and they’re ready to run a 5K.
So am I. Part of it is the time change, and part is nervousenergy, wondering if Alexander will get in touch.
Everyone agrees to the walk, and we set off. I marvel at the architecture. The mix of extremely old and ultra-modern. And some buildings that were likely ultra-modern fifty years ago. Something about the combination is so visually stimulating and exciting to me. Maybe it’s the novelty.
We pass by a classic red phone booth, and I wonder how often it’s actually used for phone calls these days. Currently, there’s a group of college-age kids taking photos in it.
