Part 1 (2/2)
After she strode off, Kevin said, ”That went well, don't you think?”
Jack grinned. ”She was too defensive. You really got under her skin.”
”I think she's still ticked off about Alaska,” I said.
Two years ago, Kevin, an internationally known environmentalist with a PhD in botany, wrote Reaping What We Have Sown: The Catastrophic Consequences of Plundering Sister Earth, a controversial manifesto that was still on the New York Times bestseller list. When the book came out, he had been invited to testify before a Senate environmental subcommittee, where Ursula Gilberti made an unfortunate comment about the states that bordered Alaska.
”I think you mean Canada, Senator,” Kevin had said. ”No states border Alaska.”
The geographic faux pas had been fodder for late-night talk shows, and Ursula had never lived it down. Now Kevin looked pained. ”Don't remind me about Alaska. Look, she had no intention of attending that session tonight, party or no party. She's from a coal-mining state and her primary is right before the wedding. She might not win this time, so there's no way she's going to be part of a conversation about how humans are responsible for global warming and the need for clean energy. It's political suicide for her.”
Across the room, a white-haired woman in a teal suit was threading her way through the crowd toward the three of us. She was looking right at Kevin. ”There's an attractive woman making a beeline for you,” I said to him. ”Probably one of your many admirers.”
”Or someone else I ticked off with my politics.”
”Nope. She's smiling. Definitely a female admirer,” Jack said. ”You know the old saying, Soph? 'Never trust your wife with a Franciscan or a Dominican.'”
Kevin gave him a friendly dig in the ribs. ”The very old saying from the sixteenth century. Along with 'Don't trust your wallet with a Jesuit.' That one's still true.”
Jack and I laughed. ”Peace be unto both of you,” I said. ”Here she comes.”
She sailed over to us, slipping her arm through Kevin's. ”In a sea of Austrian loden, a Franciscan friar is not hard to pick out of the crowd. I thought I would see you here, Kevin.” She nodded at Jack and me. ”Do introduce me to your friends. Good evening, Father.”
”Thea Stavros, meet Father Jack O'Hara, an old friend who's now at Georgetown Law School and a friend of the groom's, and Sophie Medina, the very talented wedding photographer,” Kevin said. To Jack and me he added, ”Thea is the director of the science division of the Science, Technology and Business Library at the Library of Congress. If I need a reference book anywhere in the world, she knows how to get it. And every so often she invites me over to dig in the dirt of her magnificent garden.”
I'd heard Kevin talk of Thea Stavros. With her snow-white hair, I would have guessed her age to be late fifties or early sixties, except that her fine-boned face, as delicate as porcelain, was unlined and youthful looking. The teal suit was old-fas.h.i.+oned, but it had the look of couture, with a low-cut neckline that showed off a glittering crystal-and-gold webbed necklace.
Thea smiled at the mention of her garden and dropped Kevin's arm to shake hands with Jack and me. ”My garden is a never-ending work in progress,” she said. ”I'm always begging friends to help and Kevin is kind enough to oblige.”
”Your necklace is lovely,” I said. ”Is it antique?”
She fingered it. ”I wish. It's a knockoff, though it is Swarovski crystal. Austrian, in honor of tonight.” She added in a conspiratorial whisper, ”Don't tell. I'm hoping everyone thinks it's diamonds.”
We laughed, and Kevin said, ”We'll keep your secret, Thea.”
She gave him a sly look. ”Speaking of secrets, you've got one, haven't you?”
”I'm in the business of keeping secrets,” he said with a bland smile. ”I've got loads of them.”
Thea wagged a finger. ”You know what I'm talking about. Your secret. The new project you're working on. By the way, the latest bundle of doc.u.ments you ordered is waiting for you on the hall bookshelf outside your study room.”
”Thanks. I'll come by the library for it tomorrow.”
”Are you writing another book?” she asked. ”One hears rumors, you know.”
”Never listen to rumors,” Kevin said with flat finality. ”Half the time they're wrong.”
Thea ignored the rebuff. ”Based on the information you've been requesting, it's obviously something to do with gardening in colonial America. A history book would be a real departure for you, my dear.”
”I'm sorry, but I can't talk about it.”
”Oh, come on, you're among friends. No one here is going to say anything, are we?”
In the awkward silence that followed, Jack's face was politely blank and I pasted on a smile.
Finally Kevin said, ”Please keep this under your hats. I honestly don't want word to get out . . . my agent is still working out a few things with the publisher. But you're right, Thea. It is a history book, a botanical history on gardening and agriculture in colonial America.” He looked at her over the top of his gla.s.ses. ”And that's all I can say.”
”Well, if you're planning to use ill.u.s.trations, you will come to me for help, won't you?”
”Of course,” he said, adding to Jack and me, ”I forgot to mention that Thea is the leading historical scholar in the country on American botanical prints. She also has a fabulous private collection in her home that could give a few museums a run for their money.”
Thea waved a hand and said with a rueful smile, ”Not all of them were considered rare or antique when I acquired them. By the way, Kevin, you must peek into the amba.s.sador's private study. He has two original hand-colored botanicals from the Hortus Eystettensis. They must be worth a fortune since the colored plates are so rare. I'd give anything to own something like that.”
”What is the Hortus Eystettensis?” I asked.
Thea's hand fluttered to her necklace. ”An extremely famous book of botanical ill.u.s.trations from 1613. The name is Latin for 'Garden of Eichsttt,' and it's a ma.s.sive compilation of flowers from all over the world that were in a very beautiful garden in Germany belonging to the bishop of Eichsttt. The complete book is worth well over a quarter of a million dollars, but many copies were cannibalized and the prints sold separately. Even the prints are still worth thousands of dollars . . . do have a look at them, Kevin.”
”I will.” He s.h.i.+fted his gaze and scanned the room. ”It looks like the waiters are starting to serve the champagne. I believe I'm saying a blessing, and I haven't even said h.e.l.lo to Victor and Yasmin. Will you all excuse me?”
”And me, as well,” Jack said. ”I'm going to be taking off soon, papers to grade. I need to have a quick word with someone before I go. Sophie, I'll call you, okay? Nice to meet you, Thea.”
Jack left and Thea gave me a sideways glance. ”So tell me, how do you know Brother Kevin? And the das.h.i.+ng Father O'Hara?”
”Jack and I went to high school together and I met Kevin through Jack. At Jack's ordination, in fact.” I left out the part about the das.h.i.+ng Father O'Hara being an ex-boyfriend and changed the subject. ”Do you know many people here tonight?”
”The ones from the Smithsonian, Yasmin's friends and colleagues.”
”What about that man over there?”
The dark-haired man who'd been watching me earlier had entered the dining room and positioned himself so he had a clear view of Yasmin Gilberti. She seemed aware that he was staring at her because she abruptly swung around to face the opposite direction and nearly spilled her gla.s.s of wine on her beautiful dress. Kevin caught the gla.s.s just in time and cut a look at the man, who turned away. He said something in Yasmin's ear and she blushed, shaking her head.
”The one in black who's ogling Yasmin?” Thea had been watching the little drama as well. She gave me a coy smile. ”That's David Arista. Gorgeous, isn't he?”
”I . . . well. I just wondered who he was, that's all.”
”Get in line, darling.”
”I'm happily married. Why is he ogling Yasmin, if you don't mind saying?”
”David flirts with all the women he works with. Even me.” Her laugh was rich. ”It's part of his charm.”
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