“Oh, Medora,” he was saying, rocking back on his heels. “Still a constant delight. Darling old girl. Rare and impressive. Nearing ninety! Her family of course of the purest Knickerbocker strain as she always likes to remind one—oh you should see her, full of ginger with the attendants—” here he permitted himself an indulgent little chuckle—“this is dreadful my dear, but so amusing, at least I think you will find it so.… they cannot now hire attendants of color, that’s the term now, isn’t it? of color? because Medora has such a proclivity for, shall we say, the patois of her youth. Particularly when they are trying to restrain her or get her into the bathtub. Quite a fighter when the mood takes her, I hear! Got after one of the African American orderlies with a fireplace poker. Ha ha ha! Well… you know… ‘there but for the grace of God.’ She was of what I suppose might be called the ‘Cabin in the Sky’ generation, Medora. And the father did have the family place in Virginia—Goochland County, was it? Mercenary marriage, if ever I saw one. Still the son—you’ve met the son, haven’t you?—was rather a disappointment, wasn’t he? With the drink. And the daughter. Bit of a social failure. Well, that’s putting it delicately. Quite overweight. Collects the cats, if you know what I mean. Now Medora’s brother, Owen—Owen was a dear, dear man, died of a heart attack in the locker room of the Athletic club… having a bit of an intimate moment in the locker room of the Athletic club if you understand me… lovely man, Owen, but he was always a bit of a lost soul, ceased to live without really finding himself, I feel.”
“Theo,” said Mrs. Barbour, putting her hand out to me quite suddenly as I was trying to edge away, as a person trapped in a burning car might make a last-minute clutch at rescue personnel. “Theo, I’d like for you to meet Havistock Irving.”
Havistock Irving turned to fix me with a keen—and, to me, not wholly congenial—beam of interest. “Theodore Decker.”
“Afraid so,” I said, taken aback.
“I see.” I liked his look less and less. “You are surprised I know you. Well, you see, I know your esteemed partner, Mr. Hobart. And his esteemed partner Mr. Blackwell before you.”
“Is that so,” I said, with resolute blandness; in the antiques trade, I had daily occasion to deal with insinuating old gents of his stripe and Mrs. Barbour, who had not let go my hand, only squeezed it tighter.
“Direct descendant of Washington Irving, Havistock is,” she said helpfully. “Writing a biography of.”
“How interesting.”
“Yes it is rather interesting,” said Havistock placidly. “Although in modern academia Washington Irving has fallen a bit out of favor. Marginalized,” he said, happy to have come up with the word. “Not a distinctly American voice, the scholars say. Bit too cosmopolitan—too European. Which is only to be expected, I suppose, as Irving learned most of his craft from Addison and Steele. At any rate, my illustrious ancestor would certainly approve of my daily routine.”
“Which is—?”
“Working in libraries, reading old newspapers, studying the old government records.”
“Why government records?”
Airily he waved a hand. “They are of interest to me. And of even greater interest to a close associate of mine, who sometimes manages to turn up quite a lot of interesting information in the course of things… I believe you two are acquainted with each other?”
“Who is that?”
“Lucius Reeve?”
In the ensuing silence, the babble of the crowd and the clink of glasses rose to a roar, as if a gust of wind had swept through the room.
“Yes. Lucius.” Amused eyebrow. Fluty, pursed lips. “Exactly. I knew his name would not be unfamiliar to you. You sold him a very interesting chest-on-chest, as you recall.”
“That’s right. And I’d love to buy it back if he could ever be persuaded.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Only he’s unwilling to sell it, as, as,” he said, shushing me maliciously, “as I would be too. With the other, even more interesting piece in the offing.”
“Well, I’m afraid he can forget all about that,” I said pleasantly. My jolt at Reeve’s name had been purely reflexive, a mindless jump from a coiled extension cord or a piece of string on the floor.
“Forget?” Havistock permitted himself a laugh. “Oh, I don’t think he will forget about it.”
In reply, I smiled. But Havistock only looked more smug.
“It’s really very surprising the things one can find out on the computer these days,” he said.