The Last Garden in England(45)

Andrew groaned, and Sydney pulled the paper closer to her. “Colby and I have this, unless you have a secret bank of sports knowledge you’re ready to unleash on all of us, Emma.”

“I watch a bit of football, and Dad pretends to like cricket,” she said.

“Excellent. My husband is mad about cricket, but he’s away on business,” said Jaya.

“I’ll do my best,” Emma said.

Andrew touched the rim of her glass with his. “With a team name like ‘Menace to Sobriety,’ that’s all any of us can hope for.”



* * *



Menace to Sobriety lost.

Badly.

“I can’t believe Artificial Intelligence won again,” Sydney groused as she, Emma, Andrew, and Henry walked down Church Street. Colby, who’d nursed one glass of wine, had left them at the bar to drive back to his house near the university, and Jaya had waved them goodbye from the front door of her cottage on Heather Lane. Bow Cottage was on the same side of the village as the road to Highbury House, so Emma was getting an escort home. Strangely, she found that she didn’t mind.

“You say that every time,” said Andrew, pressing a kiss to Sydney’s forehead.

“But this time we had Emma. We were supposed to win,” said Sydney, flashing the soft smile of a tipsy woman at her. “You did very well. We wouldn’t have made it through the geology round without you.”

“That is a fact,” said Henry, who had been walking quietly by her side.

“And French literature,” Andrew pointed out.

“That was a fluke of my A levels. Anyone who says they like L’Etranger is just being pretentious,” she said, her lips loosened by a third pint Andrew had insisted on buying her.

Sydney pointed to her husband. “That’s Andrew’s favorite book.”

“Not everyone,” she said quickly. “What I meant to say was people who brag about reading it in the original. Like Proust.”

“He just finished reading the final volume of Remembrance of Things Past. In French,” Sydney added.

There was a beat when Emma vowed to whichever saint protected gardeners when Sydney, Andrew, and Henry all burst out laughing.

“Oh, you should see the look on your face!” said Sydney, buckling over.

“The way you said it,” Henry howled.

“I’m so sorry, Andrew,” Emma said.

“It’s all true, and I do brag about it, even though it’s pretentious,” said Andrew graciously.

She pressed her palm to her forehead. “I feel like an idiot.”

“We all say things we don’t mean from time to time,” said Sydney, slinging an arm over Emma’s shoulder.

Even though she knew she should shift out from under Sydney’s arm for a number of reasons, ranging from boundaries to professionalism, she didn’t. A long dormant part of her craved the platonic touch of friendship.

“Anyway, you’re not getting off the pub quiz team that easily. We’ll need you next week,” said Sydney.

“Jaya’s husband will be back,” Emma pointed out.

“Which will only be helpful if we get an entire round of cricket questions,” Henry countered.

“The last time that happened, half the teams registered complaints,” said Andrew.

When Emma glanced at Henry, he explained, “We heckled the quiz master.”

Sydney slowed to a stop at a fork in the road. “This is us. Henry?”

“I’m going to walk Emma home,” Henry said.

“That’s not necessary,” said Emma. “It makes more sense for you to go with Sydney and Andrew.”

“I insist. Indulge me as I pretend to be a gentleman,” he said with a smile.

She thought about protesting but let him have his way.

After Sydney and Andrew waved them off, she and Henry turned in the direction of Bow Cottage.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Actually, I had some news for you. I’ve finally had some time to go through Nan’s old papers. I found some of those sketchbooks you were looking for.”

“Are there sketches of the garden?” she asked hopefully.

The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Sketches of the garden. Some details of plants. Some of the soldiers as well.”

“I’d love to see them.”

“I could drop them by your place,” he said.

She hesitated, but then nodded. “I’d like that.”

“All right, then,” he said. “I’ll do that.”

“This is me,” she said when they reached Bow Cottage.

She shifted her groceries higher on her shoulder so she could reach into her handbag for her keys, but as she pulled them out she fumbled them and they fell to the pavement. She stooped to pick them up, but Henry was faster. His hand had already grasped the keys as her own hand covered his. Their eyes met, and for a moment all she could process was the sound of his breath and the slight wave of his dark hair in the nighttime breeze.

“I’m glad you came in tonight,” he said softly.

“Even if it was accidental?” she asked.

“Sometimes the best occasions are accidents.”

He straightened then, giving her the keys. Her hand trembled a little as she took them.