Ghosts of Winter by Rebecca S. Buck
Authors: Rebecca S. Buck
disguise my brief glance over her figure since it seemed appropriate to my observations. Part of me wanted her to notice me looking, just so I could see her reaction.
The shadow of a smile tightened her lips at my interest. I wondered again what she was thinking. “I do go to the gym now and again, but I find it bores me,” she said. “I practice tae kwon do several times a week, which helps build strength. I also swim, but that’s mainly for fitness.”
“Wow, martial arts?” I was genuinely impressed and interested. “That explains it then.” The discipline required for martial arts clearly came naturally to her. I could see her in a white uniform, hair tied back but a few strands coming loose, the black belt—which she would undoubtedly have achieved—tied tight around her waist. “I used to play tennis,” I said, so that she didn’t think I was entirely inactive and to divert my thoughts from further picturing Anna involved in physical exercise. “Not so much lately. I’m not a fan of the gym either.” Common ground, that had to be a good thing. It would be necessary if I was going to work with her in the future. Not for any other reason.
“I played mixed doubles for my school,” she said, indulging my interest in the one sport I was good at. “I had a mean double-handed backhand.” I should have predicted she’d be good at it too. I wondered if there was anything she was bad at. It would be a fun challenge to find out.
“I played doubles myself. I was known for my down-the-line serves,” I replied, unable to resist a little boasting of my own. “So we’d probably be a good team.” I decided to take a risk. “Though, if I’m honest, I think the main reason I played was that it was a good way of meeting girls.”
I waited for a reaction. Anna’s eyes showed she registered my words and their implications. That spectre of a smile flickered over her mouth again, but otherwise she was inscrutable. She gave no sign of surprise at least. Taken aback by her complete lack of response, I faltered and found myself smiling stupidly at my own light-hearted comment. How could she not react? What the hell was she thinking?
“Well, it looks like you’ve found some chairs at least.” She gestured to the collection of old furniture that was piled against the wall opposite the windows. I wasn’t sure what to make of the change of subject, but whatever reason she had for backing out of that conversation, I had enough sense not to press and make her uncomfortable. We were going to have to work together. The restoration of Winter would also give us a long time to get to know each other. Why rush that now? I turned my attention to the furniture. At once I wondered when this room had been locked and how old the furniture was, since it looked very old indeed. A white sheet was draped over one part of the heap of dark wood, but the rest was exposed and dull with dust and cobwebs. Despite the build-up of dust, I was excited to make out a set of six beautiful dining chairs, with elegantly curving feet, their crimson upholstery still intact. An old armchair with a huge winged back, upholstered in mustard brocade, showed signs of age but appeared redeemable.
“That looks Edwardian to me,” Anna said, approaching the chair. “Possibly a little later. Those dining chairs are Victorian, I would say. They’re too fancy to be Georgian.”
“You know about antiques too?” I was no longer remotely surprised at her expertise. Again I wondered if there was anything she didn’t know something about.
“Not so much,” she admitted, and I admired her honesty. “It’s just an occupational hazard really. Spend a lot of time in old houses and you’ll pick up a lot of knowledge about styles of the interiors and furniture, as well as the architecture.”
“It must be fascinating.”
“It is.” She flashed that smile at me again. “I have to admit to being lucky enough to love my job.” Her attention was
The shadow of a smile tightened her lips at my interest. I wondered again what she was thinking. “I do go to the gym now and again, but I find it bores me,” she said. “I practice tae kwon do several times a week, which helps build strength. I also swim, but that’s mainly for fitness.”
“Wow, martial arts?” I was genuinely impressed and interested. “That explains it then.” The discipline required for martial arts clearly came naturally to her. I could see her in a white uniform, hair tied back but a few strands coming loose, the black belt—which she would undoubtedly have achieved—tied tight around her waist. “I used to play tennis,” I said, so that she didn’t think I was entirely inactive and to divert my thoughts from further picturing Anna involved in physical exercise. “Not so much lately. I’m not a fan of the gym either.” Common ground, that had to be a good thing. It would be necessary if I was going to work with her in the future. Not for any other reason.
“I played mixed doubles for my school,” she said, indulging my interest in the one sport I was good at. “I had a mean double-handed backhand.” I should have predicted she’d be good at it too. I wondered if there was anything she was bad at. It would be a fun challenge to find out.
“I played doubles myself. I was known for my down-the-line serves,” I replied, unable to resist a little boasting of my own. “So we’d probably be a good team.” I decided to take a risk. “Though, if I’m honest, I think the main reason I played was that it was a good way of meeting girls.”
I waited for a reaction. Anna’s eyes showed she registered my words and their implications. That spectre of a smile flickered over her mouth again, but otherwise she was inscrutable. She gave no sign of surprise at least. Taken aback by her complete lack of response, I faltered and found myself smiling stupidly at my own light-hearted comment. How could she not react? What the hell was she thinking?
“Well, it looks like you’ve found some chairs at least.” She gestured to the collection of old furniture that was piled against the wall opposite the windows. I wasn’t sure what to make of the change of subject, but whatever reason she had for backing out of that conversation, I had enough sense not to press and make her uncomfortable. We were going to have to work together. The restoration of Winter would also give us a long time to get to know each other. Why rush that now? I turned my attention to the furniture. At once I wondered when this room had been locked and how old the furniture was, since it looked very old indeed. A white sheet was draped over one part of the heap of dark wood, but the rest was exposed and dull with dust and cobwebs. Despite the build-up of dust, I was excited to make out a set of six beautiful dining chairs, with elegantly curving feet, their crimson upholstery still intact. An old armchair with a huge winged back, upholstered in mustard brocade, showed signs of age but appeared redeemable.
“That looks Edwardian to me,” Anna said, approaching the chair. “Possibly a little later. Those dining chairs are Victorian, I would say. They’re too fancy to be Georgian.”
“You know about antiques too?” I was no longer remotely surprised at her expertise. Again I wondered if there was anything she didn’t know something about.
“Not so much,” she admitted, and I admired her honesty. “It’s just an occupational hazard really. Spend a lot of time in old houses and you’ll pick up a lot of knowledge about styles of the interiors and furniture, as well as the architecture.”
“It must be fascinating.”
“It is.” She flashed that smile at me again. “I have to admit to being lucky enough to love my job.” Her attention was