“Beg your pardon?”
“He hasn’t said two words to me all week, but when I started to yell at you, he threw himself between us like a shield.”
Arthur looked back at Rory, snug in his life jacket but still clutching the side of the boat. He wasn’t complaining, though, just watching the sparkling water with wide, nervous eyes. “I did tell you he was brave.”
He and Rory had to be careful, but it was a small boat; someone needed to sit in the back seat with Rory, and it made more sense for him than Harry, who was older, or Jones, who was steering. Arthur stepped into the boat as gingerly as he could, mindful of the motion but too big to stop it from rocking completely.
Rory glanced up from where he’d been staring over the side of the boat into the water.
“Hi,” said Arthur.
Rory’s answering smile was shaky but grateful and real. “Hey.”
Arthur glanced back at Harry, but his brother had already climbed into the front seat and gotten into a conversation with Jones. Arthur inched closer to Rory and stretched out one leg until it met Rory’s, enough to pass as accidental in the small space in the boat but a line of warmth and support all the same.
“All right?” he said lightly.
Rory glanced up, and his eyes were bright with heart-melting warmth. “Better now.”
* * *
The boat brought them to the marina, and Harry drove them back to his house from there. Rory slouched in the back seat and tried not to call any attention to himself. Arthur’d said he could be himself, even around his family, but it was still probably smarter to keep his trap shut until he got off Harry’s bad list, if that ever happened.
They drove under the trees up the estate’s long driveway. As they pulled up to the garage, the house’s side door burst open and nine-year-old Victoria came running out. “Did you find him?”
“Aw, Vicky.” Rory scrambled out of the car, hopping as his ankle brushed the ground and twinged. “I’m so sorry.”
Victoria stopped right in front of him. “Did you hurt your foot?”
“Yes, he did.” Harry stepped out of the front, Arthur getting out of the other side. “And Mr. Brodigan is going to tell all of you exactly how it happened and why you shouldn’t go out on the ice.”
Victoria raised her eyebrows. “You went out on the ice?”
Rory winced. “I shouldn’t’ve. I know we didn’t get to practice jacks. I didn’t forget, I just—”
“I made Frederick practice with me,” she said. “We’ll play the next time I see you.”
“Um.” Rory shot a glance at Harry, who likely didn’t ever want to see Rory again, but the man was already directing his staff to start loading Arthur’s car with their bags. “Yeah, course we will.”
“Good.” She politely but pointedly held an envelope out. “Uncle Arthur says you’re returning to the city today. Will you deliver this for me, please?”
Rory took it, and found it embossed with Harry’s Hyde Park address but hand-addressed to Miss Lizbeth Meyers in better penmanship than Rory’d ever have.
“You said she is eight and in the same year in school as me.” Victoria hesitated. “Father corresponds with many people by letters. Do you think Miss Meyers would want—”
“You bet she would,” said Rory. “Lizbeth’s like you, real clever. She’d love a letter.”
Victoria broke into a bright smile, showing teeth she hadn’t grown into yet, her happiness making Rory smile back. “Thank you, then,” she said, before turning and going to Arthur, saying something that made the other man laugh before he followed her into the house.
As Rory moved to shut the car door, he found Harry still at the car, eyes on him. He flinched, but what was he gonna do, run off on this ankle? He made himself meet Harry’s gaze across the top of the car. “I really am sorry I was so much trouble.”
But Harry shrugged. “You made my daughter smile. For that, I’d forgive far greater transgressions than a moment of idiocy.” He hesitated, looking awkward for the first time before he said, “I’m sorry if I was sharp this morning.”
“No big deal, you don’t gotta apologize,” Rory said hurriedly. “I was stupid and you were worried about your brother.”
“I was.” Harry pursed his lips. “I still can’t believe Arthur went out on the ice. He knows better.” He hesitated again. “You two must be closer friends than I’d realized. How did that happen?”
Harry’s tone was puzzled, not accusing, but Rory’s stomach still dropped into his shoes. “Nah,” he said, as firmly and fast as he could. “Mr. Kenzie is a great customer for Aunt Leena. She’s a widow, you know. Lost Uncle Seamus to Spanish flu, runs the whole antiques shop by herself. Course he’s gonna look out for the only family she’s got left.”
Harry blinked, and then his confusion cleared. “Oh. Oh, of course, yes, rescuing a widow’s only nephew certainly sounds like something Arthur would do.”
“And Mr. Kenzie said he was a soldier.” If Harry Kenzie struggled to see how someone like Rory could be Arthur’s friend, Rory would hide behind another explanation. Because Arthur had said Rory should be himself, so Rory was gonna be the wall that kept Arthur and his secrets safe. “Bet that soldier thing sticks with you. I bet he would’ve run out there to save anyone.”
The last of Harry’s confusion cleared up. “A very fair point,” he said, shaking his head with a fond expression. “He’s been all brawn and bravery since he was a baby.” Harry tapped the roof of the car. “Safe travels,” he said, already turning away.
“Thanks,” Rory said, and watched Harry make his way into the house without giving him a backward glance.
Chapter Eleven
Rory tried to stay awake, he really did.
But with the Ivanovs staying at Harry’s place until Saturday to finish the garden walls, Rory had the back seat to himself to stretch out, back against one door, his ankle propped across the long bench seat and Arthur’s huge coat draped over him like a blanket. Add in the rumbling of the engine and Arthur’s deep voice as he chatted with Mrs. Brodigan, and Rory was asleep before they’d left the village limits.
He woke to find the dense buildings of the city, the softer light of late afternoon slipping between the buildings of Hell’s Kitchen. “Nonsense,” Mrs. Brodigan was saying in the front seat, as Arthur pulled the Cadillac to the curb in front of Brodigan’s Appraisals. “There’s still plenty of afternoon left. I have things to do here and you have an appointment to keep. At least you know it won’t be magic with your brother.”