"Don't be such a schmuck, Locke. He's obviously showing us off." She twirls, modeling her new dress, the fabric rippling out, red and brilliant like her lips. She stops, and her expression darkens. She crosses the room toward me and then, when her face is just inches from mine, she screws it into the silly Kara face of so long ago. In the next instant she presses her lips to mine and swipes her tongue along my teeth. Her lips are soft and cold. She pulls back and studies my face. I work hard to keep it blank. This is not the kind of kiss I want. It is a throwaway kiss. A pat on the head. An amusement. I want a kiss that means something.
She laughs. "For God's sake, lighten up, Locke! What's the matter with you?"
I wish I knew. I force a small smile. "Nervous about the visitor, I guess."
"Come on," she says, slipping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the door. "Nothing to worry about. We jump through a few hoops, sit up, roll over, we get our treats."
I don't like the way she talks about Dr. Gatsbro. If not for him, we would still be there, in the place we don't even mention because just a few words about it can make us both go dead for hours. Even though he can be suffocating in his own way at times, Dr. Gatsbro is the one who saved us.
Hey, you're the one who wanted to crush his head like an egg.
I jerk away and stop walking. "Stop it, Kara. Stop going where you shouldn't."
She smiles. "I don't know what you're talking about, Locke." She grabs my hand and pulls me through the door, her new shoes clicking on the marble as we walk down the hall. She turns at the stairs.
"Not his study?" I ask.
"No, the solarium. I guess he wants a more cheery, casual setting. Does that help put you at ease? Maybe the visitor is a gardener, or an orchid specialist, or something earthy. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, maybe I would. You think that's it? Dr. Gatsbro does love his orchids."
"Absolutely."
The solarium is on the other side of the house, a long walk down two hallways and past several rooms, most of which hold various artifacts that Dr. Gatsbro has collected. One room is full of doorknobs. Glass doorknobs, brass doorknobs, wooden doorknobs, some that look as common as the ones that we had in our house on Francis Street. They are on display in suspended gravity cases so you can see them from all angles. Another room, much more interesting, is filled with books, the real kind that I remember. The kind with paper and bindings. They are in glass cases, not for reading or touching, only for admiring.
We turn the last corner and walk through the double doors that lead into the solarium. Now that I'm here, I find I'm less anxious than I am curious. A visitor. Finally. Their backs are to us when we enter. On hearing our footsteps, Dr. Gatsbro turns around and the visitor follows his lead.
"Ah! There you are! Come in, come in, Kara and Locke! Come meet our special guest." Right away I guess he knows nothing about gardens or orchids. He wears a bright blue tunic that falls past his knees. Beneath that are billowing white pants. Even for someone like me who can barely distinguish one shirt from another it's obvious that his clothes are impeccably tailored from a fine fabric. He holds his hand out to shake ours. He takes Kara's first and lifts it to his lips. He lingers. Kara coyly pulls away.
"A pleasure, Mademoiselle Manning."
"All mine, m'sieur."
He takes my hand next. "And you are Locke Jenkins." He holds my hand, squeezing, not hard, but like he is trying to feel for something beneath my skin--something like bones.
"Yes, I know. I'm Locke. And you are?"
"Forgive me," Dr. Gatsbro says. "Kara and Locke, please meet my friend Mr. Jafari. Let's go sit. Greta's brought us some refreshments."
Kara and I sit together on a wicker settee, and across a low glass table, Dr. Gatsbro and Mr. Jafari sit in large, comfortable wicker chairs.
"Where are you visiting from, Mr. Jafari?" I ask.
He hesitates, glancing over at his host. Dr. Gatsbro nods his okay, and Mr. Jafari turns back to me. "I'm from Tunisar. Are you familiar with my country?"
"We haven't visited there--yet," Kara answers. "But we'd love to. Isn't that right, Locke?"
"Yes, of course," I say. "It was once part of India, wasn't it?"
"Yes, that's right, and also China, but a long time ago."
"What brings you to the States?" I ask.
He offers another sideways glance, and Dr. Gatsbro takes over. "He's heard about some of the work I'm doing, and after visiting my labs in Manchester, he wanted to know more, so I invited him out here to the estate. I've told him a little about you two, but I think he'd like to hear more about your remarkable journey. Kara, dear, would you mind?"
Kara tilts her head and smiles sweetly. "Of course, Dr. Gatsbro." The well-rehearsed song and dance begins. In almost the same word-for-word review as this morning, Kara begins, her hands gesturing at all the right moments, Mr. Jafari, hanging on every word, mesmerized by details, but more than the details, mesmerized by Kara. When she stands for effect and walks to the nearby table of orchids, his eyes never blink as they follow her. Her pauses are near perfection, delicately cupping a butterfly orchid and lowering her thick lashes like she is in deep thought. Mr. Jafari leans forward, literally on the edge of his seat.
"... And finally, after two and a half centuries, the right person came along--someone with the resources, expertise, and vision--to give us a second chance, our very own Dr. Gatsbro."