Page 57 of Hawk & Sparrow

She raised a brow. “That’s a bit rich, coming from you. Where do you think I learned it from?”

Tom chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair,” he admitted. “But I’ll tell you one thing I’ve learned.” His expression turned more serious. “Life stops meaning much if you don’t have any time to enjoy it, or anyone to share it with.” He examined his hat, then smiled at her. “Just something to think about.”

Vesper watched him open the door and leave the newsroom without another word. She stared at the place he’d been standing, not liking the new feeling that was needling in her gut. How often did Tom ask her for anything? In eleven years, she’d certainly asked plenty of him. Tom had always been willing to read her work and give feedback; he’d never said no when she’d asked to join him on interviews, no matter how inconvenient it was to have a small girl with him. And that had only been what he’d done for her professionally. Vesper still remembered the sandwiches he’d made for her lunch, the times he’d taken her to the library and helped carry her stacks of books home. He’d done so much, and asked for so little back. She drummed her fingers along the edge of her desk for a few more seconds before standing. Then she snatched her coat from the back of her chair and raced out the door.

When she was a child, Vesper’s parents had taken her to the Main Street Farmer’s Market almost every week.

It had been a highlight, something she looked forward to. Her parents had taken her and her sister to the market mostly to find food at cheaper prices than the grocers, but her father had waited until her mother was distracted to whisper:

We’ll get you some treats too, if you’re good.

Vesper still remembered the excitement of visiting the market, the sense of authority she’d felt as she’d held Ethel’s small hand and given her a guided tour of its different offerings. Sometimes, she wished she could have just a small bit of that wonder back.

Eleven years later, as she and the rest of the Globe’s staff meandered down Main Street, browsing tables manned by farmers who came from the rolling hills outside the city selling carrots, sweet potatoes, and winter squash. They passed artisans selling street art, handmade jewelry, and any number of painted pots and plates. Vesper inhaled, and took in the sweet and spiced scent of fresh apple cider—someone was brewing it somewhere on this street. Her mouth watered as she considered finding it, but just as quickly, she swallowed that urge. She couldn’t afford to waste money on frivolities at a farmer’s market, not until she knew that the Globe would be okay. Until then, every gild mattered.

Tom pointed, and they headed for an open area that featured several different scarecrows. It seemed there was some sort of competition going, with passersby able to cast ballots for the one they liked most. While Tom, Nell, Rory, and Ronaldo wrote down their votes, Vesper let her eyes wander the busy street. It was packed with people, but her eyes caught on one person in particular. A young woman, dressed in pink, making her way up the road. She stuck out among most of the plain-clothed folks; no one else on this street could afford silk that expensive. Vesper thought she recognized the young woman’s dark curls under her hat.

“I’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder, and then she was moving through the crowd.

“Ada!” she called. “Ada, over here!”

The young woman turned and did a double take. When her eyes landed on Vesper, she smiled.

“Vesper!” She hugged her tight. “What a lovely surprise.” She looked her over, and smirked. “Not undercover today, then?”

“No.” Vesper smiled back. She found that she wasn’t embarrassed for Ada to see her in her normal clothes. If anything, she was glad to see Ada when she felt more like herself. “I tried to find you at the Belvers’.”

Ada rolled her eyes. “My mother had a headache, so we left early.” Her eyes danced. “I heard all about it though. You continue to be the talk of high society.”

Vesper crossed her arms. “I’m surprised to see you here.” She gestured around them. “I didn’t think a farmer’s market would be to your taste.”

The corners of Ada’s eyes crinkled. “I do enjoy some of the street art,” she said. “But the truth is, I needed to get out of the house. I figured some fresh air would do me good.”

Vesper paused. Now that she was standing closer to Ada, she noted that Ada’s cheeks looked slightly puffy, and her eyes were red.

“Ada.” Vesper’s voice softened. “What’s happened?”

“What?” Ada fidgeted. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been crying,” Vesper said in a lower voice. “I can tell.”

“Oh.” Ada pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her face. “It’s nothing.”

“Ada.” Vesper took one of the girl’s hands in hers. “As a reporter, I deal with sensitive information as a part of my job.” She gave her a meaningful look. “You can trust that anything you say to me will stay with me, you have my word.”

Ada smiled, and then Vesper saw something in her expression slowly shift. She looked away. “As I said, I’m being silly,” she murmured. “Most girls are much happier when they get engaged.”

“You’re engaged?” Vesper blinked. “To whom?”

“A gentleman named Melvin Calhoun.” Ada wrinkled her nose. “He’s a banker. My father knows him.”

“I didn’t even know you were being courted.”

Ada’s eyes hardened. “That’s because I wasn’t.”

Vesper paused. She hadn’t missed the disdain in Ada’s voice. “Is Mr. Calhoun … unattractive?”

“No.”