Part 47 (1/2)
”I plan to. I plan to visit every place she mentioned. In her diary she writes about living between England and Cadiz. Their first child was born in England. They had five of them, three boys and-but maybe you know all of this?”
”I don't know it from Olivia's perspective. And it's fascinating. What do you know?”
She glowed gorgeously, delighted to have something to share. ”Well, Olivia wanted to see the world, and Lyon wanted to show it to her. They went on to Louisiana-Lyon had had a plantation there and it was really prospering-and then they moved on to New York when her brother Ian and his wife t.i.tania settled there. That's where they lived during the civil war. She writes about her brothers and sisters coming to visit. I saw a statue of my Great-Great-Great-Uncle Jonathan in London.” She gave a short wondering laugh.
”Jonathan Redmond is one of my heroes. His wife was remarkable, too. They transformed the lives of poor children and helped transform manufacturing in this country. We learned about him in school.”
”I touched him, too,” she confessed, gesturing at the tree she'd just felt. ”I patted his bra.s.s thigh.”
Malcolm had a sudden inconvenient image of her hand on his own thigh.
Which briefly erased his ability to speak.
”So many brave people in my family, I've discovered.” She said this shyly, and almost, carefully, searching his face again, perhaps worried about offending him in case his family was riddled with cowards. He found this amusing and unaccountably touching. ”Olivia and Lyon were both involved in the abolitionist movement in America.”
”They were remarkable, Olivia and Lyon Redmond. But there probably isn't an ordinary person on the whole of your family tree. For instance . . .” His finger landed on Lyon's brother, Miles Redmond. ”Are you familiar with Redmond Worldwide?”
”The GPS and travel people?”
”The very same. They were radar and aviation pioneers, too, back in the early days of flight. Stop me if you already know all of this.”
”I know some things, but please tell me anything you'd like.”
”Miles Redmond-Lyon's younger brother-was a renowned explorer and naturalist. His series on the South Seas is still read today. My own copy is nearly worn threadbare. I read the devil out of it when I was younger. Still have it.”
”Books like that are precious,” she said firmly.
”What kinds of books do you like to read?” he tried, casually. He suddenly very much wanted to know.
”I'd like to read Miles Redmond's books.”
Indicating that she'd reveal things about herself selectively and on her own terms, thank you very much.
A peculiar blend of amus.e.m.e.nt and irritation surged through him.
She didn't realize how very, very determined he could be.
”I'm sure you can find a set in Tingle's Bookshop,” he said smoothly. ”Which is . . .” he pivoted, then pointed up the street. ”. . . right over there. You won't need GPS to find it. Miles did make it to Lacao one more time. But he remained in England when his wife Cynthia became pregnant with their first child. They had four sons, and a daughter, as you can see.” He tapped each name gently. ”It seemed his destiny was to continue to help the rest of the world see the world. One of them in particular was rather notorious. . . .” he touched a name. ”Augustine Redmond.”
”A little notoriety strengthens the bloodline, from what I understand.”
”If you're basing strength on scoundrels, then you'll be delighted to know your blood is strong indeed.”
Gratifyingly, she laughed.
”Redmond Worldwide has branched out into mountaineering equipment, travel gear-nearly everything travel related. Their headquarters are in London, but they have offices around the world.”
”They sponsored an Everest climb a few years ago, didn't they? And weren't they in the America's Cup last year?”
Ah. So she read the newspapers, at the very least. Perhaps business journals.
”Yes. And they've recently partnered with Cole-Eversea for high-performance outdoor wear. Later in life Colin Eversea, Olivia's brother, and a Mr. Gideon Cole founded Cole-Eversea textiles after successfully breeding a sheep with the softest, most durable wool. The business has been in the family-your family-ever since. Colin Eversea and his wife Madeline had children later in life, four of them. Two boys, two girls, all rascals save one, or so I'm given to understand. One of their descendants heads the company.”
”I found my Cole-Eversea sweater in a thrift store.” She plucked at the tissue-fine cashmere cardigan she wore open beneath her jacket. ”Otherwise I never would have been able to afford it.”
He froze.
He'd caught a glimpse of something on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s when she'd plucked at her sweater.
He jerked his head up and all but glared at her.
”Are you . . . are you wearing a McLusky t-s.h.i.+rt?” He could barely get the words out.
”I . . . ah . . . Yes.” She said this carefully. Startled.
”The band. McLusky.” He said this abruptly.
”Is there . . . another McLusky?”
”I fuc . . . that is, I love McLusky.” He said this almost accusingly.
McLusky was difficult to love, too. Noisy, obnoxious, visceral, clever, obscure. He couldn't think of anyone who remembered them.
Let alone a woman.
There ensued a fraught little silence.
She narrowed her eyes. Studying him in a way that meant: Prove it.
”I'm fearful I'm fearful I'm fearful of flying and flying is fearful of me,” he quoted softly, like a soldier repeating a pa.s.sword to a sentry.
There was a short silence.
”Well.” She said cryptically. Imbuing that word with a dozen shades of meaning.
He imagined describing her to his friend Geoff Hawthorne later: ”She wore cashmere over McLusky.”
An interesting moment zinged between them.
”What do you do for a living?” she asked suddenly.
”I'm a doctor.”
She blinked. ”Doctors, in my experience, usually lead with 'I'm a doctor.'”
He gave a short laugh. ”I have a practice, a clinic, in the Sneath Building down the hill-you may have pa.s.sed it on your way up. I've a partner, Finn O'Flaherty. A lot of local patients. We even do occasional house calls.”
That was all he said. It was his turn to be circ.u.mspect.
She just nodded, taking this in. She didn't do what a few too many women did when they learned he was a doctor: fawn. He didn't know why they did that. Apart from the money, doctors often made terrible partners, for so many reasons. The ghastly long and unpredictable hours, for one.