Susan Mallery Page 0,20
it had to be captured in the written word. Five thousand years ago, there weren’t any sticky notes. Back then a written message was deliberate. Paper had to be made by hand and it was a laborious process. Ink had to be created and then you had to find someone who knew how to read and write.”
“I never thought of it that way, but of course you’re right. Today language is careless. We think nothing of writing something down.”
“Exactly. There are still languages that we can’t decipher. One of my hobbies is trying to translate Indus script. The civilization existed from about 2600 BC to 1900 BC in the area of what we know as Pakistan and northwestern India. They were a thriving people with an export trade and several large towns, and then they were gone, leaving behind a written language we have yet to understand.”
“I didn’t know there were any written languages that hadn’t been translated.”
“There are several. Every year or so I take a few weeks to see if I can make any progress on Indus script.”
Okay, that was impressive. Her goal on the hobby front was to learn how to knit.
“Tell me how you do your work.”
She smiled. “That’s a very generalized question. Every client is different and I do my best to customize my approach for the situation. A businessperson wanting to learn cultural norms for a business trip to China is a very different proposition than someone who might be moving to Argentina for a promotion.”
“Do you know much about living in Argentina?”
“No.” She laughed. “That was an example. I could teach a basic course on business practices in Argentina, but I don’t know the nuances necessary for someone moving there. We have experts.”
“On Argentina?”
“On nearly every country. I’m more of a generalist.”
“Ah. You get the unusual requests.”
“When I’m lucky.”
He smiled at her. He had a nice smile and she liked his dark eyes. There was something very pleasant about Alec. He was a deliberate sort of person and she could appreciate that.
“Did my mother tell you she’s not one for technology? If you’re hoping she’ll do work online, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I had a couple of workbooks printed and bound. We’ll see how those are received. In her case, I assumed we’d do a lot of talking and some role playing. I’m not sure where we’re starting, so until I know that, I can’t formulate a complete plan.”
“I’m imagining formal place settings at the dining room table.”
Margot laughed. “That will happen for sure. You can play along if you’d like. Many a client has been overwhelmed by the fish fork.”
“Not the dessert spoon?”
“You know about the dessert spoon?”
“Yes. It’s up by the dessert fork. You forget—I went to boarding school in Switzerland. I can handle a fish fork with the best of them.”
“Training every young man needs.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far but those lessons are ingrained.”
“Your father was Swiss?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“He was. A rich banker who met my mother at a party in London. Theirs was a brief but torrid affair with the unexpected result of her getting pregnant. She was twenty-four at the time and my father was in his early forties.”
“That is an age difference.”
“Yes, and neither of them wanted to get married. I’m not sure my father was all that interested in having children, although his parents were thrilled. My mother returned to LA to prepare for my birth.” He smiled. “I will admit that when I was little, she seemed almost magical. We were a team. She took me everywhere. There were no bedtimes, no rules. When I was four, she hired a tutor who traveled with us.”
“While no rules sounds nice, it’s not always comfortable.”
“I agree.”
She sipped her cognac. “So you made your own rules.”
He nodded.
“What about your father?”
“He never had any other children so I was his only heir. I saw him from time to time, but we weren’t all that close. I adored my paternal grandparents. I spent a few weeks with them every summer. By the time I was thirteen, I was ready to go to boarding school. My father told Bianca and that was that.”
She was sure Alec had been happy to leave his nomadic life for something more structured, but she couldn’t help wondering how Bianca had reacted to her only child living halfway around the world.
“Was that the last time you lived with her?” she asked.
“I would spend time with her on breaks.”
Like the trip