The Thornless Rose by Morgan O'Neill Page B

patted him absentmindedly. “Not now, McDuff.” Then she called out, “Mrs. Leach, we’re home.”
    Anne’s voice was low. “I’m going to my room.”
    Trudy came into the hall just as Anne raced up the stairs. “What’s wrong, dear?” When Anne ignored her, Trudy turned to Catherine. “What’s amiss, Mrs. Howard?”
    “Nothing. Anne’s just a bit under the weather.”
    “Perhaps a cuppa would do her good. Will the two of ye be havin’ a bite o’ lunch then, or straight t’ tea?”
    “Tea, please. Bring it into Mr. Howard’s library, if you don’t mind. Anne and I will be spending the afternoon in there, just the two of us.”
    Trudy raised her eyebrows at the change of habit. “Straight away, then, in the library.”
    “Ta, Mrs. Leach. And do include some sweets. Chocolate, I think.” Catherine glanced toward the stairs. “We have need of fortification.”
    …
    Anne stepped into the library, but hesitated by the door when she saw her grandmother on the phone. The dust cover on the mahogany desk had been pulled aside, revealing half the desktop.
    “Yes, well, that’s awfully good of you. Do tell Peter it’s rather urgent. Yes. Quite right. Thank you.” Shaking her head, Catherine hung up the telephone and muttered, “For pity’s sake, whenever there’s a rush on, one always seems to catch a snag.”
    “What snag?” Anne asked.
    Catherine turned. “I’ve an old friend at Kew Gardens—Peter Blakely. I rang him up to see if he could help us out with identifying the rose, but he’s on holiday and won’t be back until Sunday week. I’ll put it in the refrigerator to keep until then. Perhaps the guide was wrong, and it’s not extinct. Peter will know.”
    “Whatever,” Anne said with a shrug. “I really don’t care about the rose. Could I use your phone to call the airline, and then Mom and Dad, so they can pick me up at the airport? My cell still isn’t working.”
    “Yes, but before you do, might I have a word with you, darling? I’ve some things I must show you.” Catherine pushed back the sofa’s cover, motioned for Anne to sit, and then left the room. In a moment, she returned with two bundles wrapped in tissue paper. She placed the larger one next to Anne, but kept the other in her hand as she sat at the desk.
    A knock sounded on the door. “Do come in,” Catherine said.
    Trudy bustled in with a tea tray. “Now, Anne dear, this should set ye t’ rights. I’ve found yer favorite chocolates an’ some maids o’ honor.”
    Avoiding Trudy’s stare, Anne reached for one of the pastries. “Thanks,” she said. She used her finger to scoop out a bit of the filling and tasted it. The sweet, creamy goodness of the maids of honor reminded her of simpler, happier times.
    With a sigh, she set the pastry down.
    Trudy clucked her tongue. “Ye’ll be wastin’ away t’ nothin’ if ye dinna eat, lass.”
    Catherine frowned. “Do give us some privacy, Mrs. Leach.”
    Trudy returned her frown, and, grumbling, left the library.
    Catherine pointed to the bundle next to Anne. “Please unwrap the parcel. I think it might come in very handy for you.”
    Anne pulled away the tissue and unrolled folds of deep green wool. She stood up when the length of the material proved longer than her outstretched arms could manage. The fabric tumbled loose, revealing a beautiful silk-lined cape.
    “It’s gorgeous, Grandma. Is this yours?”
    “Heavens, no. It belonged to my grandmum. That wasn’t the sort of thing one wore to functions in my day, yet I could never bring myself to part with it. When you were little, I was tempted to put it in the family dress-up box for you to play with, but now I’m very glad I kept it apart. Your great-great-grandmother used it over her gowns when the weather wasn’t cooperating.”
    Anne’s eyes narrowed. “And why would I need this?”
    “Well, if you ever did vanish like Jonnie...”
    Anne shook her head at the ridiculous turn things had taken. “No,