Diedrich sighed. “I’m not going to be a businessman, or even a scientist. I’m going to be a writer. I can meet my deadlines when I’m doing something I enjoy.”
Megan concentrated on her plate, not wanting to embarrass Diedrich. This was obviously an old argument between them.
“I told you, Son,” Mr. Hemmlich said, gesturing at Diedrich with his fork. “You will not live like a hermit, hunched over a keyboard, trying to scrape out a living on something so—impractical—as writing novels.”
Diedrich’s gaze flickered toward Megan and her father. He closed his eyes and gave a slow, even sigh. “Let’s not do this now, please,” he muttered, and focused on his meal. “Not in front of our hosts. It’s impolite.”
Mr. Hemmlich looked from Megan to her father. He gave a short nod, and both father and son returned to their food. An uncomfortable silence followed. Knives and forks scraped against china, cups were raised and lowered, but no one said a word.
Well, this is pleasant. And I thought I had problems. Megan decided to break the tension. “Two of my friends are coming over today.” She plastered on her widest fake smile. “We’re going riding down to the stream for a picnic. You’re welcome to join us, Diedrich.”
Aw, man. It hadn’t been her intention to have a picnic. But once again, her mouth spit things out before she thought about them. Now she would have to run to the kitchen and beg Maggie to whip up a basket of food for four people. Great. Batting a thousand and it’s only breakfast.
Diedrich flashed that crooked smile that made Megan’s heart melt, and the look in his eyes said he was grateful for the change of subject. “I would like that. Thank you.”
Okay, that smile totally makes it worth it. Picnic? I’d put together a four-course banquet for another of those.
“That’s a good idea,” Megan’s father said. He set down his utensils and sat back in his chair. “Herr Hemmlich and I have some business to attend to this morning. This afternoon I’m going to take him and Diedrich into town. Show them a real English village. You can come with us, Megums.”
Megan wiped her mouth and stood up. “That sounds okay. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and ask Maggie to…add more sandwiches to the picnic basket.”
Megan managed to get Maggie to agree to the picnic, which hadn’t actually involved that much begging, and ran up to her room to change into riding clothes—jeans and a forest green chambray that buttoned up the front. She spun in front of the full-length mirror in her room—they flattered her budding teenage figure, and the shirt’s color went just right with her hair and green eyes. She hoped Diedrich would notice.
Who am I kidding? Diedrich had been friendly with her, but once Rachel was here, his eyes would be on her. Megan was no slouch—she was pretty in her own way—but Rachel had the smooth skin, dark hair and sapphire eyes that boys seemed to fall all over themselves for, even though Rachel didn’t pay any of them much attention.
It’s not worth getting upset over, is it? Megan had only met Diedrich yesterday. If he liked Rachel better, that was okay too. I guess. Besides, it’s not like he’s staying, so why am I obsessing?
Megan bounced down the stairs and waved to her friends as Bailey showed them in and silently retreated.
“Where is he?” Rachel whispered.
Megan looked around to see if anyone else was listening. They were alone. “He’ll be down in a minute. I think he went to change his clothes.”
“Rachel e-mailed me this morning. Is he really as handsome as all that?” Claire said. She pushed her glasses up her nose and tossed her short brown hair.
There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. “Shh. Here he comes.”
The girls watched the lithe but athletic form of Diedrich Hemmlich descend the main staircase. He moved his long limbs with grace and held himself with an air of refined elegance. He was dressed in a pair of well-worn but nicely fitted jeans and a red, long-sleeved, pullover sweater.
“Good morning.” He glided across the marble floor toward them and bowed slightly. “I am Diedrich Hemmlich.”
“These are my friends,” Megan said, suddenly nervous. “This is Rachel Cuthbert.” She pushed Rachel forward.
“It is a pleasure.” Diedrich took one of Rachel’s hands and kissed it. She giggled and tossed her dark hair.
Megan felt a flash of jealousy. She’s totally flirting with him!
She grabbed the back of Rachel’s shirt and tugged her away from Diedrich. “And this is Claire McIlhenny.” Megan gave the bespectacled girl a nudge with her elbow.
“It is very nice to meet you, Claire,” Diedrich said. Claire turned crimson as he gave her the same treatment as he had given Rachel, and her normally fluid tongue was suddenly tied in knots. “I, uh, oh…”
Megan tried not to laugh. Claire was the smartest person she knew, and usually calm, and always logical. Students and teachers alike respected her, but in that “Claire always knows the answer” kind of way. She wasn’t used to people, especially boys, giving her this kind of attention.
Diedrich returned her hand, and Megan pulled his gaze away from Claire’s flustered face. “We just have to make a quick stop in the kitchen, and then we’ll be on our way.”
With picnic basket in hand, the four young people walked out the back door and toward the stables. Today, the indigo sky was cloudless, and the day was sunny and cool, with a light breeze.
They followed the crushed-stone path that led from the house and across the grounds. The manor was as impressive on the outside as it was inside. Three stories of dark gray stone, topped by a peaked slate roof with a dozen or so gables and too many chimneys to count. The house was shaped like a “U”—the main house in front with wings that extended back from either end. In the center of the courtyard was a large rectangular reflecting pool.
“That is an interesting bit of landscaping,” Diedrich said. He stopped to look at the pool. “I saw it from the window of my room, but it is much more impressive up close.”
The reflecting pool was rather incongruous to the house. Instead of the usual modest English embellishments, Greek statues, columns and benches of white marble surrounded it.
“Yes,” Claire said. Her scholarly tone said she had finally recovered from Diedrich’s greeting. “It’s a perfect replica of a pool found in the Acropolis.”
“Really?” Diedrich asked.
Claire nodded. “We saw one exactly like it when we were—”
Megan bumped Claire with her shoulder, hard, almost knocking her into the water.
“Come on, the stable is this way.” Megan grabbed Diedrich by the elbow and steered him away from the pool, glancing over her shoulder to give Claire an angry glare.
Claire’s eyes grew wide as she realized what she had almost said. She clapped a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed to Megan.
The stone path divided the courtyard in half, and skirted around the pool. Megan led Diedrich, with Rachel and Claire following, away from the pool and into the estate’s formal English gardens. The flowers dripped with the remnants of the morning dew, and some had opened in the bright sunshine, while others were closed tight, waiting for warmer weather.
The path came to an abrupt stop at the far end of the gardens. Beyond was a lush emerald lawn, just right for croquet, bocce ball or a game of cricket. The four young people left footprints in the wet grass as they cut across the manicured lawn and headed toward an outcropping of buildings tucked into the far corner. The garage, the stable and an old carriage house—now a workshop—stood together, all made of the same round gray stone and held together with a thick mortar that might once have been white, but was now yellow.
Stephan, the stable manager, leaned on the stable’s doorframe. A thin, well-built man in his fifties with weathered skin and sun-faded blue eyes, Stephan was a good man. When Megan and her father first arrived here, he tried to make the transition from New York to The Parthenon easier for Megan by giving her riding lessons and always having a smil
e for her and something cheerful to say. Megan, who had thought horses were terrible, smelly things that she never wanted to come anywhere near, was grateful for his efforts.
He gave the group a cheery wave. “Good morning, folks. Mother Nature’s smiling on you today. It’s a dilly of a day for riding.”
Megan nodded. “Are the horses ready?”
“They sure are.” Stephan beckoned them inside. “I think they’re as anxious to get out as you are, after being stuck inside all winter.”
Four horses, saddled and bridled, stood tethered to a ring attached to the stable wall. Megan undid the reins to Thunder, her own big, storm gray gelding, and Annabelle, the chestnut mare that Rachel liked to ride whenever she visited. Stephan untied the other two horses—Buttercup, a docile, golden mare, and Midnight, the high-spirited but obedient black gelding.
Megan tied the picnic basket to Annabelle’s saddle, then handed her reins over to Rachel and guided Thunder out into the stable yard. He stood perfectly still as his mistress climbed up and settled herself into the saddle. Diedrich swung onto Midnight’s back with a dancer’s grace. A pleasant shiver crept up Megan’s back. She could almost hear the music from one of her favorite movies. Diedrich could have been Cary Grant or Clark Gable.
“Ready?” she asked, still staring at Diedrich.
“Just a minute.” Claire wasn’t as proficient a rider as the others, and it took her a little longer to get comfortable. Stephan gave her a boost into the saddle, and soon she was settled.
“Okay.” Rachel took Annabelle’s reins in her hands. “Let’s go.”
Megan gave her three friends a mischievous grin. “Race you.”
She kicked Thunder’s sides hard and urged him to a gallop. The gelding whinnied as he shot out of the yard and took off across the open, wild field beyond the lawn. Rachel and Annabelle fell behind quickly. The quiet of the countryside was disturbed by the rumble of horses’ hooves as Megan and Thunder ran through the tall grass.
Megan’s heart raced. It felt so good to be out in the open, with the wind in her face, running free.
At the end of the meadow they rounded a copse of oak trees and scared a murder of crows that had taken up residence in its branches. Megan laughed as the birds took off in a black cloud of loud caws.
She felt something next to her. She looked to the right, and there was Diedrich, racing alongside of her. He had Midnight in a full gallop, the horse’s body stretched out to the limit. He gave Megan a roguish smile, and urged the horse on. Diedrich pulled ahead of Thunder by a head, then a neck.
Not one to be beaten, Megan leaned forward against Thunder’s neck and pushed him a little harder. Thunder obliged, the beat of his hooves speeding up. Ahead there was a little wood. They would have to stop before they got there, or risk being decapitated by the lower branches of the trees, or breaking a horse’s leg on the roots.
Thunder’s nose was out in front. “I’ll beat you to the woods,” she yelled over the noise of the horses’ feet.
Diedrich shook his head.
The trees raced to meet them, and Megan pulled back on Thunder’s reins. The horse slid to a stop, three feet in front of the trees—and two feet in front of Diedrich and Midnight.
“Good race,” Diedrich said. “You ride very well.”
Megan had to catch her breath—she felt energized. “Thank you. So do you.”
Rachel and Claire trotted up behind them. Claire bounced terribly in Buttercup’s saddle. “You could have given us some warning, you know,” Claire said. “There was no way we were going to keep up with you.”
“Show-offs,” Rachel said with a playful sniff.
Megan laughed. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted to do that for months.” She wheeled Thunder toward the path that cut through the woods. “Let’s go—we’ll all walk.”
Chapter Five: A Lesson in History
The four of them rode along the path, two by two. Diedrich rode next to Megan, in front of Rachel and Claire. Most of the trees were in bud, a few had leaves. The bareness of the forest made the wildlife more visible.
Diedrich pointed to a cloud of black and brown birds that swirled above their heads. “Starlings.” A tiny gray bird landed on a tree branch that jutted out over the path. Diedrich leaned over and whispered to Megan, “And that’s a meadow lark.”
“How do you know so much about birds?” Megan glanced at the pretty bird. He looked back at them and cocked his head, as if he were inspecting them as well. She looked at Diedrich and admired the way he sat so easily in the saddle. Her stomach wiggled as if the small butterflies that fluttered across the grass below had taken up residence in her stomach.
“Birdwatching is a hobby of mine. One of the few I have that my father approves of. When I am not in school, he and I travel, and it’s something that I can do anywhere. I have some books back at the house I can show you.”
“Oh,” Megan sighed, and tried to look interested. “That would be nice.” She didn’t really want to look at books about birds, but jumped at the chance to spend more time alone with Diedrich. She quickly reined in her imagination, which was breaking out of the gate. Life isn’t a movie, after all. He’s probably just being nice.
The path led to a grassy place beside a wide stream, swollen and quick-moving from the winter thaw. They stopped and tied up the horses. The place was one of Megan’s favorites, so quiet and peaceful. Megan, Rachel, Claire and Harriet had spent an afternoon here last fall, trying to decipher the poem they found in Megan’s room that led them to the Library’s entrance.
Megan untied the basket, and Rachel spread a worn and faded blanket on the grass. Maggie packed them a veritable feast of ham sandwiches, macaroni salad, deviled eggs and fresh fruit. Diedrich helped Megan unload the food, utensils and four cans of soda, and Claire arranged it all on the blanket.
“Tuck in,” Claire said.
After they were full and the basket repacked, the four of them sat side by side on the banks of the stream and dangled their bare feet in the cold, clear water.
“You used to live in New York City?” Diedrich asked Megan. He kicked a foot in her direction and sent a small wave of water up and over her ankle.
Megan splashed him back. “Yes. I lived there all my life, until last September.”
“Do you miss it?”
Megan looked across the water at a squirrel that bounded along the far bank. “I used to. I loved the busyness of it. The crowded streets, the people, and all the great shops and restaurants. There was always something to do. They had great revival movie theaters.” She looked around her and smiled. “But this is nice too. It’s grown on me.”
“You had to leave your home, and all your friends,” Diedrich said. “It must have been hard.”
Megan shrugged. “It was. When my dad said we had to move, I didn’t want to come. I pouted, threw a tantrum, almost threatened to run away. I thought it was the end of my life.”
“Aw, Megan, I’m hurt,” Rachel teased.
Megan stuck out her tongue and wagged her head at Rachel. “Let me finish. Once I got here, I still wasn’t crazy about it. Everything was so different. But look at that house, who wouldn’t want to live there? The place is a palace. And London is a train ride away. I get the best of both worlds.”
“And her new friends are brilliant, you know,” Claire chimed in with a grin.
“It is hard to leave a whole life behind.” Diedrich watched the water rush by. “You are very brave.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Megan said.
“I do.” He held Megan’s gaze for a moment before turning his head away. Megan was left completely speechless.
“So, Diedrich,” Rachel burst in, breaking the strange silence that followed. “Megan tells me your father is an archeologist. That must be wonderfully exciting. What kinds of things does he do?”
“He’s the curator of the Egyptian wing of the Berlin-Dahlem museum.”
Claire gasped. “The Berlin-Dahlem? They
have more artifacts from Ancient Egypt than even the British Museum.”
Diedrich chuffed. “Yes, they do, and my father spends the majority of his time making sure they’re all very well cared for.”
Megan saw the hurt in his eyes hiding behind his words. She knew what having a workaholic father was like. She was glad her relationship with her father was better than Diedrich’s was with his father, and reminded herself to hug her dad today.
“I would love to talk to him,” Claire said, starry-eyed. She was top in their year at St. Agatha’s, and she loved all things educational.
“I’m sure he would be glad to talk to you about his work.” Diedrich skipped a stone across the stream, the corners of his mouth creased with a slight frown. “He enjoys nothing more than hearing the sound of his own voice.”
The conversation she had overheard in the dining room popped into Megan’s head. She decided to pry, just a little. “So what does he want with my father’s firm?”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. He only said that we were coming here to talk with him about some business. He does have a lot of money, but he already has an investment agent.”
Megan wondered what Diedrich thought his father was really doing here, based on what she heard before breakfast, but since he didn’t offer, she didn’t ask. There was time to find out.
“Perhaps he wants the firm to sponsor an expedition to Egypt?” Rachel suggested. “Like they did for Sir Gregory.”
“Your father’s firm did that?” Diedrich knit his brows.
Megan pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Years and years ago. Sir Gregory dealt in art and antiques, too, remember. He had some money to start with, and he was friends with the firm’s founder, Mr. Baird. Mr. Baird invested in Sir Gregory’s work, for quite a while. My dad says he made the firm loads of money.”
Diedrich rubbed his chin. “Perhaps that is what he wants. He’s been to Egypt a number of times, on expeditions sponsored by the museum. I know it’s a dream of his to lead another expedition, of his own, to the Valley of the Kings.” He opened his mouth, as if there was something else he wanted to say, but closed it again.
The Ankh of Isis: The Library of Athena, Book 2 Page 4