Shadow game Page 0,27
are, just remember who has the higher IQ." With that pathetic parting shot, Lily hung up the phone. She sat on the edge of her bed and burst out laughing, partly from the exchange and partly from sheer relief. She had been far more frightened than she had acknowledged even to herself.
She loved Arly. She loved everything about him. She even loved his atrocious manners and the way he growled at her like an old bear. A skinny bear, she amended with a little grin. He hated to be called skinny almost as much as he hated the reminder that she had the higher IQ. She used it only on rare occasions when he had totally bested her at something and was feeling particularly smug.
She padded down the hall on bare feet, down the winding staircase, without turning on lights. She knew the way to her father's office and she hoped his familiar scent, still lingering there, would bring her a measure of comfort. She had instructed everyone to stay out of the office, including the cleaning staff, because she needed to be able to find his papers, but, truthfully, she didn't want to part with the scent of his pipe that permeated the furniture and his jacket.
She closed the heavy oak door, shutting out the rest of the world, and settled into his favorite armchair. Tears welled up, clogging her throat and burning her eyes, but Lily blinked them determinedly away. She leaned her head into the cushions where her father had leaned so many times while he talked with her. Her gaze drifted around his office. Her night vision was acute and she knew every inch of his office so it was easy to make out the details.
His floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were symmetrical, the books perfectly aligned and arranged in order. His desk was at a precise angle to the window, his chair pushed in two inches from his desk. Everything was in order, so like her father. Lily stood up and wandered around the room, touching his things. His beloved collection of maps, neatly laid out to be easily accessed. His atlas. To her knowledge he had never touched it, but it was displayed prominently.
An ancient sundial sat to the left of the window. A tall glass Galileo barometer stood on a shelf closest to the enormous grandfather clock with its swinging pendulum. Next to the barometer was a thick hourglass wrapped in lead spirals. Lily lifted it, turned it over to watch the grains of sand slip to the bottom. His most prized possession was the large world globe on the mahogany stand. Made of crystals and abalone shell, the perfect sphere had often been examined as he talked with her late at night.
She touched the smooth surface, sliding her fingers over the highly polished shell. Sorrow washed over her. She sank into the armchair closest to the globe and slumped down, pressing her fingers against her temples.
The ticking of the grandfather clock was overly loud in the silence of the office. The sound beat in her head, disturbing her solitude. She sighed, got restlessly to her feet, and wandered over to the clock, brushing the intricately carved wood with loving fingers. It was magnificent, fully seven feet tall and nearly two feet deep. Behind the beveled glass the mechanism worked with precision and the giant golden pendulum swung. On each hour, beside a distinctive gold Roman numeral, a different planet emerged from behind double doors of shooting stars, beautiful glittering gems spinning through a darkened sky, complete with moons revolving. Only at noon and midnight did all the planets emerge together in a spectacular display of the solar system. Three o'clock had the emergence of a brilliant spinning sun. And the nine o'clock position held the moon, filling the entire clock with wondrous delights.
She had always loved the clock, but it belonged in a different room, where the loud ticking didn't drive a person crazy while they tried to think. Lily turned away from the unique masterpiece and threw herself into a chair, stretching out her legs and glaring at her feet without seeing them. There were nine planets, the sun and moon and solar system display, but during the night, the moon display was empty. It came out faithfully at nine in the morning, but steadfastly refused to make an appearance at nine in the evening. Lily has always been vaguely irritated by the inconsistency of the moon's appearance. A flaw in something so precise.