would that be?”
Jordan paused. What did Anneliese do that summed up her essence? Cooking, as she whipped up her dense, delicious Linzer torte? Sewing, her quick fingers moving over a lace collar? Neither seemed quite right. In the rare photograph Anneliese allowed to be taken, she looked exactly the same: anonymous and pretty, face turned to the flash like a shield. What was the essential Anneliese? “I’ll find out,” Jordan promised.
Anneliese looked briefly amused, then the smile faded to something more somber. “Jordan, we’ve talked about you managing Ruth if I went on a buying trip for the shop . . .”
Jordan untied her apron. “I thought you wanted to hire someone to do the buying.”
“After four years with your father, I think I can tell a good bit of china from the bad. I’d like to go to New York for a few auctions.”
“I can watch Ruth. Especially now with Mrs. Weir holding down my end at the shop; she managed things for Dad years ago, so she’ll keep it running like clockwork. You should go to New York, Anna.” Jordan liked the idea of Anneliese heading off to take up the business reins. Maybe her stepmother too was eager to stretch her wings, be more than a housewife with her sewing room. I’d like to see you try, Jordan thought, not without a flash of guilt for her father. His love had been so all-encompassing, but it had also . . . confined. Jordan knew she wouldn’t ever, ever voice that thought aloud, but she couldn’t help having it.
“Then I’ll plan a week or so in New York,” Anneliese was saying, all crisp decision. “And if you don’t mind watching Ruth, I’ll take another two weeks in Concord after that.”
Jordan paused, hanging up her apron. “Why Concord?”
“Because your father and I honeymooned there.” Anneliese traced the counter with a fingertip. “I . . . want to say good-bye to that memory.”
“Oh, Anna.” Jordan touched her hand. Yes, there was guilt in Anneliese’s blue gaze too. Perhaps she had also felt caged by Dan McBride’s fond, firm hand over her life.
Anneliese gripped Jordan’s fingers, eyelids lowered. “I’ll have to be the strong one for Ruth once you’re gone. Not short-tempered with her, the way I’ve been lately. If I can . . . get a little time to put myself in order, I’ll be ready.”
“Anything you need.” Anneliese’s hand was chilly in Jordan’s. Well done, J. Bryde. Too busy mooning about a prospective date to notice how worn-out your poor stepmother is. Jordan gave Anneliese’s cheek a remorseful kiss, told her to sit down with some sherry, and took Ruth and Taro out to enjoy the twilight. Reassuring Ruth that yes, her mother would be gone for a few weeks, but Jordan would be there for everything. And yes, the lesson next week really would happen; Mr. Graham wouldn’t forget.
And how much easier it was going to be to get Ruth her music lessons if Anneliese wasn’t there to sneak around.
Chapter 37
Ian
July 1950
Boston
Waking up this morning, I would not have bet that by nightfall you’d have a music student, and I’d have a date with a Red Sox fan.” Tony came back into the apartment after putting Jordan McBride and her sister into a cab.
Ian tucked his violin back in its case. “I should have known you’d beeline for the first pretty girl to cross your path in this chase.”
“I want her going home wondering if I’m going to steal a kiss Monday morning, not wondering why her clerk is shacked up with an inexplicable Limey and an even more inexplicable tableful of paperwork that was mostly, if she’d looked closer, copied from her shop.” Tony flopped into a chair, propping his boots on the dead radiator.
“Yes, I saw you shuffling papers out of sight behind her as I was playing.” That was the reason Ian had offered to play—well, partly. He shut the lid on the violin, still rather touched by Ruth McBride’s intense reaction to it. Normally if anyone cried at his playing, it was because he was butchering the music. “Is that why you were nudging me with your eyebrows to take the little girl on as a pupil? So her sister wouldn’t stop chatting and start looking about?”
“Partly.” Tony linked his hands behind his head, studying Ian. “Though you surprised me by offering in the first place. Why did you?”
“I don’t entirely know.” That visceral reminder of Seb, as Ruth looked up with her stricken