Simkins greeted Zan at the front door and took her hat. The expression on his thin face was grim.
“What is it?” she asked as she pulled off her gloves.
The butler gave an exasperated snort. “Mr. Garrou and Mrs. Felis-Ackart have arrived about fifteen minutes ago wanting to see you. I put them in the sitting room.”
She nodded. “But why that glum frown on your face?”
“They have been eating sandwiches.”
Zan’s brows knitted at that peculiar sentence. “Sandwiches?”
Simkins made a vague gesture with his right hand indicated the doorway to the parlor. She opened the door a crack and peeked inside.
The sitting room was decorated with overt fussiness. It wasn’t Elliot’s personal style let alone Zan’s, but occasionally more well-heeled guests would grace their doors and they would expect to be entertained in a certain style. So the sitting room was packed with Continental knick-knacks such as a ponderous grandfather clock and gaudy vases sitting on pedestals to plush ottomans and oriental rugs. Even the portraits of her grandfather and grandmother were framed by carved wood, colored in gold.
Two figures were sitting on an empire styled sofa. One was Del Garrou. Despite being fop, dandy, and all-around fashion connoisseur for ladies’ clothing, he still managed to put himself in the running in the minds of marriage minded mamas. Today, he was wearing a grey-green suit and ivory waistcoat, which as usual, offset his thick dark chocolate hair and green eyes to perfection. Beside him was Sabina Felis-Ackart, known in certain circles as the Cold Widow. But unlike Zan, she wasn’t wearing any mourning clothes. She was wearing some sort of pale ivory confection flounced with similarly colored lace and puffy ruffles at the front of her bodice and a perky feathered hat which sat on top of her perfectly coiffed hair. Only her red lips and strange yellow-green eyes broke the monochromatic picture that she presented.
At the moment, it looked like a face off between the two, Del’s sharp teeth barred in a strange imitation of a smile, Sabina’s eyes sparkling, but her erect spine bristling. Their hands were hovering above a plate on the silver tea tray placed on a narrow coffee table. The plate held only one sandwich. Zan delicately sniffed. White bread, cucumbers, chicken, and Boreas’ special mustard sauce. No wonder.
“Could I prevail our cook to prepare another platter of sandwiches?” said Zan lowly.
“I will try to convince him,” said Simkins, “But I won’t guarantee anything. You know how Boreas is when interrupted in the middle of his lunch preparations.”
“Well, tell him that if he doesn’t make another platter, and quickly as well, we’re going to have a full scale war in here. And you know how Mrs. Philomon is about that. She’ll be absolutely livid when she finds out it’s Boreas’ fault.”
“I shall relay your warning,” the butler said with a quick nod of his head before strolling towards the kitchen.
Zan pushed the door to the sitting room wide open. Del and Sabina didn’t even blink as she made an appreciable amount of noise as she settled. Then she reached over and snatched the sandwich for herself. She took a bite as her guests slowly turned their heads to watch her in astonishment. She swallowed. “I’m famished after hearing about Mr. Naupolis’ brunch plans,” she explained. “And it didn’t look like either of you were about to touch it any time soon.”
“I’m a growing boy,” complained Del.
“Ha!” exclaimed Sabina. “You’re already a grown man. Yet you have such deplorable manners. What happened to giving ladies the right of way?”
“Oh, ladies can have as much right of way as they wish,” he leered. “But no one comes between me and my food.”
“Your food!”
“Actually, it’s my food,” Zan interjected before taking another bite. “Besides, another tray of sandwiches should be arriving sometime soon.”
“No one comes between me and food,” Del repeated smiling close-lipped at Sabina. “And aren’t ladies always watching their figures? Your corset ribbons aren’t too tight are they? Perhaps they’re the cause of your bad mood. Let me help you…”
Color dotted the Cold Widow’s cheeks. “Oh! You’re a terrible cad. I don’t know why I put up with you besides the fact that you are also one of Zan’s friends.”
Zan poured herself some tea. “As I recall, you two were together when I first met you.” She slanted them a speculative glance. The two, individually, attracted the opposite sex like flies to honey, but for the three years that she had known them, she had never seen them take notice of anyone else. Exactly how closer were they? But Zan wasn’t the nosy type and she didn’t ask.
“He is always following me around like a puppy,” Sabina explained. “Or rather, a very large, stupid dog.”
“Don’t pay attention to her,” Del shot back. “She was the one who dragged me out of bed this morning to see you. I was planning on waking up around noon and my cook always prepares a late breakfast of sausages…”
“Sausages, sausages, and more sausages,” continued Sabina.
“Hey, I happen to like sausages. And you never complained before.”
“Of course I haven’t complained. How many times have I been at your house around noon?”
Del frowned and began counting on his fingers. When he got to sixteen, he gave up. “Too many to count, actually. So why haven’t you complained before?”
“I was humoring you.”
“Humoring me? Then that’s what I’ve been doing when I’ve been over at your house. Your cook is a fish fanatic.”
“Fish is a healthy, low in fat, and delicious alternative to all that greasy red meat.”
“You know what, you’re a fussy eater.”
“Am not!”
Zan sipped her tea calmly, smiling. “You two sound like an old married couple.”
“Ha!” said Sabina in a huff.
Del looked thoughtful. “Now there’s a thought. Getting married wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”
Sabina shook her head. “I’ve been married. My late husband was a terribly complacent bore.”
“Of course some husbands are bores,” Del replied. “They don’t know anything about pleasing their wives.”
“And you think you know how?”
Fortunately, before the two of them could utter another word, Simkins swept in to replace the empty plate with one filled with more chicken and cucumber sandwiches. Immediately diverted, the two guests fell upon the sandwiches like ravenous scavengers. Zan gave a reassuring wink to the butler who only shook his head appalled.
Once assured that their mouths were stuffed, Zan said, “I went to see Mr. Naupolis about the estate this morning.”
Sabina swallowed daintily and dabbed her lips with a napkin. “So your uncle did leave you this house?”
She nodded. “Pretty much everything was left to me. Except his research.”
Del washed his food down with tea. “What do you mean, except his research? You told us before that he had burned all of his notes. So of course he wouldn’t have left you his research.”
“No, I mean the machines that Uncle Elliot built. Apparently he signed an agreement with the Museum about a month before to have them archive his things.”
“Really?” Sabina raised an eyebrow. “I thought your uncle’s relationship with the Museum wasn’t that amicable, especially after that terrible falling out with the Museum director.”
“Well, apparently it wasn’t so terrible or one or the other changed his mind.” Zan gave her head a shake, confused thoughts swirling in her mind. “What’s done is done, I suppose, but they’re my uncle’s experiments. And it doesn’t seem like him to do such a thing. But the worst thing about all of this is that he never told me. I thought he trusted me.”
“Zan,” said Del, “There are things about the people closest to us that we never find out about until too late. Sometimes, we never find out about it at all. Everyone has secrets, no matter how much trust is put with friends and loved ones.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the sitting room door. They looked up just as Simkins cleared his throat. “Miss Hu, Mr. Southmore is here to see you.”
A guarded look came over Sabina’s normally glittering gaze. “What’s he doing here?”
“Paying his respects, I suppose,” said Zan. “And he did have some sort of business with Uncle Elliot. I assume he’s here about that too.”
Sabina nodded. “That sounds legitimate. Look Zan, we know you’re going through a terrible time. Losing someone you love is not easy. But we don’t wish for you to molder in those mourning tweeds for the next couple of years. The day after tomorrow—there will be a new play at the theater. Del and I will come pick you up. And wear something cheerful. Your uncle would wish for you to be happy.”
“I know, Sabina.”
Simkins cleared his throat again. “Miss Hu?”
Zan waved a hand. “Send him in, Simkins.”
Sabina touched her fingers. “Be careful,” she said cryptically. Then she got up from the couch. “We’re leaving, Del. I’m sure Zan wants to conduct her business affairs in private.”
Del looked longingly at the remaining two sandwiches on the platter as he stood up. “Give my compliments to your cook, Zan,” he said. “You don’t suppose he would like to work under my employ?”
“I thought you already had a cook,” Zan replied.
“And you had too many sandwiches,” Sabina added. “Twice as many as me seeing that your mouth is bigger. I suggest we go to the park to walk off all that food.”
Then, Jebediah Southmore filled the doorway in unrelieved black—as if he was the one in mourning for his uncle, not Zan. His glittering eyes watched Del and Sabina with faint disapproval as the two of them gave the Church’s emissary quick, stiff nods and hastily retreated into the foyer where Simkins went to retrieve their coats. Zan made to get up, but he shook his head.
“Mr. Southmore…” Zan began.
“Miss Hu, again, my most sincere condolences about your loss. Mr. Waterstone will be missed by many circles. His was an unparalleled genius.” Without her offer, Southmore sat down on the couch that Del and Sabina had vacated.
A pounding ache formed behind her eyes. “Yes, I know that. This is an unexpected visit, Mr. Southmore.”
“Unexpected, but important.” The expression on his face was arranged in a pleasing, kindly smile, but his blue eyes were hard. “It is about your uncle’s business with me.”
