Today's Reading
It was so quiet here. All she heard was the rush of wind through the trees. Mr. Spalding was likely inside.
A German shepherd came bounding toward her from behind the house.
"Shoo!" She held out both hands to slow his advance. Mud coated his paws, and yet the dog seemed to be in a state of absolute bliss.
"Stay down," she tried.
He did not stay down. Instead, he stood on hind legs and planted front paws on her royal blue skirt. She could feel the wet cold seep through the fabric.
"Down!"
The animal's tail wagged so hard it swayed his body. He seemed to have no intention of leaving her be. With grim determination, she tugged off the white cotton gloves she wore and stuffed them in a pocket before taking his paws and shoving them away. "You really need to work on your manners, pooch. Coming on strong is no way to treat a lady."
Her hands now as filthy as his paws, she headed toward the closest door to the mansion. "Mr. Spalding!" she called out, hoping he was near enough to hear. "Your dog is loose, Mr. Spalding!" And he trotted right alongside her, tongue lolling from a grin, tail beating against her thigh as if they were in cahoots or something.
"Barney!"
The commanding voice stopped her before she reached the veranda. Turning, she watched the dog run to his owner, who was dressed far more casually than she'd predicted for a man expecting a meeting. The trousers were fine, she supposed, but he wore no jacket, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows. He hadn't even bothered to pomade his brown hair, and a thatch of it fell over his brow. As the man approached, Barney stayed obediently at his side, ears pricked up, tail still wagging.
"Sorry about that, miss. Barney never met a stranger."
Elsa squinted at the sun over his shoulder before a cloud diffused the harsh light. She stifled a gasp. A long scar slashed the left side of his face from the top of his cheekbone to his jaw. A smaller scar marred his square chin. A gust of wind lifted his hair, revealing a third mark on his brow. If she'd met him in a dark alley, she would have turned tail and run.
Snapping her attention to his deep grey eyes, she stuck out her hand, hoping that she hadn't stared for more than a fraction of a second. "Elsa Reisner," she said. "I'm here from the American Museum of Natural History, for the bird collection."
He looked at her hand and, instead of shaking it, placed his handkerchief in her palm.
Of course. The mud.
"Thanks." She wiped between every finger, then pressed the handkerchief to the paw prints on her skirt. At least she couldn't fret about her first impression with Mr. Spalding since it was his dog who had sullied her.
He extended his hand, and this time Elsa shook it. His grip was firm and calloused. "I'll pay the dry-cleaning bill."
"That isn't necessary, but thank you." Returning the handkerchief, Elsa shifted her gaze to Barney. Now that he was sitting and leaning against his master's leg, she could appreciate that the animal just loved people. So did she. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. Spalding," she added. "Your aunt was a fine woman. I didn't know her well, but we shared a love of birds. We at the museum are honored by her bequest."
When he frowned, he looked downright foreboding. "You misunderstand."
"Do I? Which part?" Remembering her gloves, she pulled them out of her pocket and back on her hands, feeling only slightly less exposed. The handkerchief had been no help in cleaning the dirt from beneath her nails.
The door opened onto the veranda, and a man of middling years in a three-piece suit filled the frame. After a moment's hesitation, he left the house and joined them.
"Miss Reisner?" Beneath a closely trimmed beard, his face was narrow, and somewhat pinched. The smell of Brilliantine from his light brown hair competed with the fresh air.
"Yes," she said, looking between the two men.
Turning, the scarred man walked away, and Barney went with him.
"Well." The newcomer eyed her mud-smeared ensemble. "Guy Spalding. I was watching for a professional, not a schoolgirl."
Heat flooded her face. She knew she looked younger than her age but couldn't do much about that. "Then who was that?"
...
