The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,42
her professional differences with Flintrop in the face of teamwork. Easier when she wasn’t talking to Flintrop.
She stopped when she came to a petite woman with a mane of fiery red curls. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
The young woman’s hands slipped on her shovel. It dropped against a nearby wheelbarrow with a clang. “Oh! Sorry.” She snatched the shovel up again, then smiled and shook Sara’s hand. “Becky Palmeter. I’ve heard a lot about you. I did my senior thesis on one of your digs.”
“Are you postgrad?”
“Is it that obvious?”
With a chuckle, Sara answered, “You still have that deer-in-the-headlights look. I had it, too. Are you with Lamb or Flintrop?”
“Lambertson would be a relief. I’m with Flintrop,” Becky said. “He’s always scowling at me. I feel like whatever I do is wrong.”
“I’m sure your work is fine,” Sara said, feeling sympathy for the woman. “Half the battle is not letting him intimidate you.”
“Who ordered the swarm?” came a male voice.
Ian stood at the edge of the dig. Flutters rushed through Sara’s insides, up, down, and back again. “Hi.”
He gestured down into the trench with a question in his eyes.
“Lamb’s cavalry. Come down. Becky, this is Ian Waverly. He’s a wildlife biologist who’s here to work with the birds. Ian, Becky Palmeter. She’s one of our new recruits,” Sara added, then smiled at the redhead.
He shook Becky’s hand when he reached them. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
Ian turned his attention to Sara. “I need to make a run to Unst for some supplies. Can I borrow your boat?”
“Sure. The keys are on the table in my tent.”
“Want me to bring something back for you?”
Warmth filled her body. Not so long ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed he’d be so thoughtful to her. Now...
Well, now she ought to be keeping her mind off dreaming about him and on her job.
As hard as that was.
“Coffee,” she said briskly. “If I don’t get more coffee, this project is going to come to a screeching halt.”
He grinned at her, and she knew he was thinking of their mutual love of Waverly’s secret blend. “One large bag of caffeinated goodness. Check.”
Lambertson approached them. “Sara, where did you—” He stopped when he saw Ian. “You must be Mister Waverly.”
“Yes, sir,” Ian replied, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Lambertson’s gaze swept Ian’s figure from head to foot in what Sara thought was a look of scrutiny. “You’re here for wildlife?”
Ian didn’t seem bothered by Lambertson’s evaluation. “Yes. I’m studying coastal birds on the north end of the island.”
“Waverly, you lucky son of a bitch!” chortled another voice.
Ian peered over Lamb’s shoulder at the man jogging toward them. “Lu! How’d you land a gig like this?”
Luis Rivero clapped Ian on the back. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Sara raised her brows. How, indeed.
“I pulled some strings at the university,” explained Ian. To Lambertson he added, “Luis is the reason I’ve heard so much about you. He talks about your work nonstop.” He turned again to Sara. “Thanks for the boat. I’ll catch up with you later.” He went to the edge of the trench and climbed out.
“Coffee!” Sara called after him. “Lots of it!”
Walking away, Ian waved a hand in the air to indicate that he’d heard.
When Sara spotted Lambertson, the smile vanished from her face. “What?”
Her mentor surveyed Ian’s retreating figure. “How long is he going to be here?”
“I don’t know, another month. Lamb, he isn’t going to interfere. He’s not interested in what’s going on down here.”
Lamb made a doubtful noise and walked away. Luis went with him.
Becky stared after Ian. “Wow. Maybe I should have gone into wildlife.”
Prickles danced across Sara’s shoulders. She picked up a stray shovel and tried to sound amiable. “I’ll see you around the dig. It was nice meeting you,” she murmured, then strode off.
At sunset, the entire crew gathered around a fire. Sara sat cross-legged beside it with her sister, discussing the project. She was in the middle of a lament about not finding any artifacts yet when she noticed Faith wasn’t paying attention. Sara prodded her. “What’s the matter?”
Faith snapped out of it and leaned toward her. “I’ve spent the past two days reading the books Dad had in with the Shetland research. In Beardsley, I came across something about—”
“Good day’s work,” interrupted Flintrop, sitting down on Sara’s other side.
Faith sank into reticence. Her mouth pinched like someone had just force-fed her minced leeches.