Flick shrugged. “Now that the cats are grown up, their baby pictures are worthless.”
“Perhaps not.” Hannah leaned toward Flick as if she had a secret to share. “What if I take new digital photos of Lapsang and Souchong in roughly the same poses as the kitten shots? Then I could use Photoshop to compare the old images with the new. I might be able to recognize minor features that haven’t changed—a fleck of color in an eye, the shape of an ear, maybe markings on a nose.”
Flick threw back her head. “I love the idea! In fact, I’m furious that I didn’t think of it first. It’s certainly worth a try.”
Hannah began to count on her fingers. “First, I’ll program the computer. Second, I’ll search the Internet. Third, I’ll photograph the cats. Fourth, I’ll compare the old and new photos.”
“And fifth, you add a simple page to our current Web site that announces we’ll pay ten pounds for an interesting anecdote about Etienne Makepeace that involves tea. Acceptable anecdotes will have a minimum of two hundred fifty words.”
Hannah peered up at Flick. “Do I have a deadline?” Flick joked, “How about tomorrow at noon?”
“A piece of cake! I don’t have classes this evening, and I get in early on Tuesdays. I’ll probably be done by eleven in the morning.
My goodness! She’s serious.
Flick wanted to laugh but managed to mumble, “Um …thank you. I appreciate your dedication. I see us working together on many projects in the months ahead.”
Hannah peered up at Flick with brown eyes that now seemed years older and far more calculating. “In that case, tell me what’s going on with you and Mr. Owen. Did you cut him loose? Can anyone have a go at him?”
Flick heard herself gasp—and immediately felt foolish that she had overreacted. Why should a silly question from an occasionally harebrained computer techie have the power to startle her?
Because you don’t want to cut Nigel loose.
Flick slid to her feet, surprised at the depth of the fondness she suddenly felt for Nigel. “I will let you know if and when anyone can have a go at Nigel. Until then—”
Hannah didn’t wait for Flick to finish. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “You can’t blame a girl for asking.”
Five
Nigel dried his face with a paper towel and glared at himself in the lavatory mirror. “Now you know what a blithering idiot sounds like. You haven’t behaved so ineptly since you were fifteen. What on earth made you act the fool?”
He crumpled the towel into a wad and realized that his question had an obvious answer. There was no mystery here. Anyone could recognize that he was caught on the horns of a ludicrous dilemma. One part of him wanted to apologize to Flick—and seek her forgiveness. The other part believed that she should apologize to him—and refused to let a repentant word pass his lips.
Falling in love certainly led to surprising complications.
He tried to remember if it was Keats or Browning who wrote that the course of true love never did run smooth. Either way, the words were proving painfully true. But neither he nor Flick had time in their busy lives for useless bickering. Something was bothering her about their relationship. He would have to sort the matter out as quickly as possible, for both their sakes.
Nigel stepped out of his private loo and discovered that Cha-Cha had claimed a pondered chasing him off but decided the sofa was so tatty that it hardly made sense to displace the dog. Once the acquisition of the Hawker antiquities was complete, he would have an opportunity to persuade the board of trustees that the director of the favorite forbidden roost—dead center atop Nigel’s leather-upholstered sofa. Nigel Royal Tunbridge Wells Tea Museum deserved more elegant décor. His heavy and substantial wooden desk, on the verge of becoming an antique, could stay. But the various chairs in the room were long past their prime, as
“Perhaps not.” Hannah leaned toward Flick as if she had a secret to share. “What if I take new digital photos of Lapsang and Souchong in roughly the same poses as the kitten shots? Then I could use Photoshop to compare the old images with the new. I might be able to recognize minor features that haven’t changed—a fleck of color in an eye, the shape of an ear, maybe markings on a nose.”
Flick threw back her head. “I love the idea! In fact, I’m furious that I didn’t think of it first. It’s certainly worth a try.”
Hannah began to count on her fingers. “First, I’ll program the computer. Second, I’ll search the Internet. Third, I’ll photograph the cats. Fourth, I’ll compare the old and new photos.”
“And fifth, you add a simple page to our current Web site that announces we’ll pay ten pounds for an interesting anecdote about Etienne Makepeace that involves tea. Acceptable anecdotes will have a minimum of two hundred fifty words.”
Hannah peered up at Flick. “Do I have a deadline?” Flick joked, “How about tomorrow at noon?”
“A piece of cake! I don’t have classes this evening, and I get in early on Tuesdays. I’ll probably be done by eleven in the morning.
My goodness! She’s serious.
Flick wanted to laugh but managed to mumble, “Um …thank you. I appreciate your dedication. I see us working together on many projects in the months ahead.”
Hannah peered up at Flick with brown eyes that now seemed years older and far more calculating. “In that case, tell me what’s going on with you and Mr. Owen. Did you cut him loose? Can anyone have a go at him?”
Flick heard herself gasp—and immediately felt foolish that she had overreacted. Why should a silly question from an occasionally harebrained computer techie have the power to startle her?
Because you don’t want to cut Nigel loose.
Flick slid to her feet, surprised at the depth of the fondness she suddenly felt for Nigel. “I will let you know if and when anyone can have a go at Nigel. Until then—”
Hannah didn’t wait for Flick to finish. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “You can’t blame a girl for asking.”
Five
Nigel dried his face with a paper towel and glared at himself in the lavatory mirror. “Now you know what a blithering idiot sounds like. You haven’t behaved so ineptly since you were fifteen. What on earth made you act the fool?”
He crumpled the towel into a wad and realized that his question had an obvious answer. There was no mystery here. Anyone could recognize that he was caught on the horns of a ludicrous dilemma. One part of him wanted to apologize to Flick—and seek her forgiveness. The other part believed that she should apologize to him—and refused to let a repentant word pass his lips.
Falling in love certainly led to surprising complications.
He tried to remember if it was Keats or Browning who wrote that the course of true love never did run smooth. Either way, the words were proving painfully true. But neither he nor Flick had time in their busy lives for useless bickering. Something was bothering her about their relationship. He would have to sort the matter out as quickly as possible, for both their sakes.
Nigel stepped out of his private loo and discovered that Cha-Cha had claimed a pondered chasing him off but decided the sofa was so tatty that it hardly made sense to displace the dog. Once the acquisition of the Hawker antiquities was complete, he would have an opportunity to persuade the board of trustees that the director of the favorite forbidden roost—dead center atop Nigel’s leather-upholstered sofa. Nigel Royal Tunbridge Wells Tea Museum deserved more elegant décor. His heavy and substantial wooden desk, on the verge of becoming an antique, could stay. But the various chairs in the room were long past their prime, as
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