“Bed’s better than a chaise, I think,” Jasper replied, shrugging but flashing a grin at her that told her in no uncertain terms that he understood perfectly well how strange this was. “It was time.”
“Past time,” Malcolm confirmed, his eyes on the basket. “Are you going to give that over, then?”
She frowned, hugging the basket to herself. For a moment, she didn’t want to give it up. Just one moment.
She knew she hadn’t taken this for herself, after all.
She stepped forward and held the basket out by the handle, giving the whole thing to Malcolm with a little frown on her face.
As soon as he’d taken it, she sank onto the corner of the guest bed, biting her lip as she watched him.
He was grinning as he flipped the little cloth back that covered the thing, clearly expecting something silly or frivolousor perhaps edible. His smile faltered a little upon seeing that it was none of those things, his eyes widening.
“Good Lord,” he said, drawing out the old, battered abacus, its beads gone soft and chalky over years of weathering and window-filtered sunlight. “Is this…?”
She nodded. “The one you played with. When we were little.”
“Faithergave you this?” he asked, staring up at her with the thing held partially aloft in the recesses between his fingers as she nodded.
“There’s more,” she said. “He said we can take whatever we like. But I saw that… and…”
Mal’s chin gave a very slight quiver, his lips folding in on themselves as he held the thing, still not removing it entirely. “Oh.”
She glanced at Jasper, a little desperate. She had done this wrong, hadn’t she? She’d given it wrong.
Jasper stood and strode over, putting a hand on Mal’s shoulder as he peered down at the thing. “The Marvelous Wooden Abacus, eh?” he said, giving a squeeze. “That’s a relic, you know. A proper one.”
“‘Relic,’” repeated Mal, a single tear sliding down his clean-shaven cheek. “It is, isn’t it? I would’ve thought it long lost.”
“Nothing is lost,” Libba put in immediately, her own eyes starting to feel misty. “He kept the room exactly as it was. Your old jacket is still where you threw it on that last day. You could come next time if you like. Poke through it.”
Mal shot her a look, his mouth flat and hard.
It made her hold her hands up in apology. “Or if you want me to look for something, I can,” she amended. “Whichever you like.”
“This is enough,” Malcolm decided, looking between his sister and the toy and back again. He stood and crossed theroom, dropping a kiss onto the part in her hair. “This is perfect. Thank you, Lib.”
She blinked up at him, wanting to reach out, to stop him and say more, but he was already giving a little smile and stepping toward the door. “The two of you have stolen quite enough of my day, I think,” he decided. “I’m going to take a long bath and head out to the tables. Do not join me.”
“Rude,” said Jasper, though he was smiling and sounded relieved. “Enjoy yourself.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Mal replied toothlessly, then he gave them another little glance and a shake of his head before he was gone.
Libba watched the empty doorway for a moment, noting that Malcolm had not closed them in together. It made her give a little titter, a little shake of her head. A fond, tiny sigh that released some of the abacus-shaped tension in her chest.
And then she turned to look at Jasper.
He was looking back, those golden eyes soft and crinkled at the corners. “Libba,” he said.
She twisted her lips. “Pleasant evening to you,” she responded.
For a moment, they just watched each other, softness tugging at their lips, at their brows, at their jaws.
And then they sighed in unison.
“Long day,” Jasper commented, leaning back in his chair and drawing his ankle up higher, above his knee, hands anchored over his boot. “Very long.”
“Too long,” she agreed. “Shall we ask each other how our respective unpleasant errands went?”
