As soon as they were alone, Gemma and Mr. Frazier began filling their plates.
“What kind of car do you want?” Mr. Frazier asked.
“A Duesenberg,” she said quickly.
“That’s a doozy of an idea.” His eyes were laughing as he let her know he knew the origin of the word.
“Gemma,” Mrs. Frazier said as she entered the room and sat down at the opposite end of the table. Leaves had been removed so it was shorter than it had been last night. “I warn you not to make car jokes in this family or they’ll never stop, and you’ll not be able to come up with a reference that will stump them.”
“That’s a challenge to a historian.” She looked at Mr. Frazier. “What about Duryea?”
“Duryea Motor Wagon Company,” Mr. Frazier said. “Founded by Charles and Frank Duryea. They built the ‘Ladies Phaeton’ in 1893, and won the Chicago Times-Herald race two years later. But, alas, the brothers fought. Bad ending.”
“I can see that I’ll lose this one,” Gemma said.
“Did you know that Shamus Frazier, the one who came here from Scotland about 1770, made the wagons for George Washington’s troops at Valley Forge?”
Gemma’s eyes opened so wide they were circles. “Really?”
“It’s been passed down in my family that the man was passionate about wagons. Today we’d probably say that he had an obsessive-compulsive disorder and send him to therapy. But back then he just built the best wagons anybody had ever seen.”
“Good enough to help win a war against a big enemy,” Gemma said. “A hero.”
Mr. Frazier looked at her with almost love in his eyes.
“For heaven’s sake, Grinny,” Mrs. Frazier said, “let the girl eat. You two have years to talk about history.” Her words sounded displeased but her eyes glistened with happiness. “Right now we need to discuss practical matters. Gemma has to move to Edilean, so we have to figure out how to get her things here.”
“I could lend you a pickup truck and you could drive there and back,” Mr. Frazier said. “But I guess it depends on how much stuff you need to bring back.”
“I thought I’d fly out tomorrow morning,” Gemma said, “and rent a car to drive back. I don’t have much to bring here.”
“Not even books?”
They looked up to see Colin standing in the doorway. He smiled at Gemma as he took a seat across from her and helped himself to scrambled eggs.
“I do have a few books,” she said, smiling back at him. He looked rested and happy. “But not as many as you’d think.”
“You must want to say good-bye to people,” Mrs. Frazier said, and they all looked at Gemma. “Last night Isla seemed to imply that there were a lot of young men in your life.”
“Only my students,” Gemma said. “And . . . This is embarrassing, but they were so sure I’d get the job that they gave me a party when I left.” She looked down in memory. Her athletic students had surprised her, and it had been a joyous event. They’d given her gag gifts of tiny boxing gloves and a T-shirt with the bottom half cut away. They’d often teased her because when she trained with them she always wore large, concealing clothes. After an hour of hilarity, one of the biggest of the young men had hoisted her onto his shoulder and carried her back to her apartment. The others had followed so that she’d been surrounded by over a ton of young, muscular male flesh. It had been an exhilarating experience.
“That settles it,” Mrs. Frazier said, “we’ll have everything sent here and Gemma won’t have to leave.”
“I’m not sure . . .” Gemma began.
Mr. Frazier was looking at his wife as though he were confused about something.
“I think it’s the perfect solution,” Mrs. Frazier said as she got up and went to the sideboard, opened a drawer, and withdrew a couple of keys on a ring. She handed them to Gemma. “These are to the guesthouse and the garage. If you’ll give me all the pertinent information I’ll arrange for movers to pack and ship all that you’ve left behind.”
“I couldn’t possibly impose like that,” Gemma said.
Mr. Frazier leaned toward her. “I can attest that my wife is brilliant at having things packed and shipped. England must be empty after all that she had sent home.”
Gemma was torn between not wanting to cause anyone extra work or expense, and wanting so very much to stay. She looked at the keys in her hand. They were on a ring for Frazier Motors and she held them so tightly they bit into her hand. “Okay,” she said at last, “but if I’m going to stay here, I need to buy some toiletries, and—”
“Colin will take you,” Mrs. Frazier said quickly. “Whatever you need, wherever you want to go, he’ll take you there.”
Mr. Frazier looked at his wife in speculation, then turned to his son. “Take her into Williamsburg and get her a car.”