Page 41 of Familiar Things New

Shielding his mouth with his hand, Edwin permitted himself to smile in secret. Agnes was still sitting on the nearby sofa, flipping through that week’s newspaper, but luckily, she hadn’t yet seemed to notice his change in expression.

He closed his eyes to relish the moment a little longer. Andrew had written to him! And what a perfect letter it was, the single tiny blot of ink in the corner only making it that much more Andrew, and therefore, that much more perfect, too.

Still covering his mouth, Edwin reread the letter a second time, and as his eyes moved over the script, his smile only grew. What a thoughtful friend William was to have thought of Andrew for such an important event. Edwin would have to commend him for wanting to help Andrew’s struggling business the next time they saw each other.

Edwin continued to study the letter, but this time he lingered on the six words that were somewhat mystifying. If only I had some help. The statement almost seemed like an invitation. Almost. Tap-tap-tapping his cheek with his index finger, Edwin thought about it some more. While it wasn’t exactly an overt invitation, it was . . . maybe a hint of one. It felt like Andrew was requesting Edwin’s help without really requesting it.

Blowing out a breath, Edwin raked a hand through his hair. How should he navigate this? He honestly wasn’t sure. Edwin’s eyes flitted over to Agnes. She would know. Companionable and socially savvy, Agnes made friends easily. Truthfully, some of her clients probably only continued to seek out her services because they liked her as a person.

Besides being the sort of individual who might be able to interpret the meaning of the statement in the letter, Agnes was already privy to Edwin’s secret. She knew he liked men. Not that Edwin had confessed to her that he liked Andrew, specifically. Still, he could tell her he liked Andrew. And it likely wouldn’t be as difficult as potentially ever telling William such a thing someday.

After a few more seconds of deliberation, Edwin turned to face his sister.

“Would you mind helping me with something?” he asked.

“Depends on what it is,” she said with a teasing half smile.

“I need help interpreting something in this letter,” he said. “It’s . . . from Andrew.”

Agnes stood from the sofa. “I wouldn’t have imagined Andrew to be the sort of person who writes in riddles,” she said, walking over.

“Apparently he is,” Edwin said. He slid the letter closer to her as she began to read it. He tapped the curious sentence twice with his index finger. “Here. Do you think he’s implying that he wants my help? Or that he’d welcome it, at the very least?”

“Hmm . . .” Agnes furrowed her brow. “You’d really want to work with him for the party?”

“I . . .” Edwin’s voice faltered.

He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Could he even stand to leave the conservatory for that long? Would the plants survive for a little while without his care? Would William’s parents be going to the party as well? Dammit, there were too many questions.

Waving his hand back and forth vigorously, he said, “Let’s not linger on that right now. I need to know whether or not he’s trying to ask me for help before I can consider how to respond.”

“All right, well, personally, I think he’s trying to imply that he’d welcome your company, yes,” she said. “It’s not the politest way for him to have said it in a letter, but I suppose that’s very Andrew.”

Edwin’s cheeks warmed. It was a very Andrew thing for him to have written, wasn’t it?

After a curt clearing of the throat, Edwin said, “Great. Perfect. Thank you.” Flicking his wrist, he wiggled his fingers in the direction of the door, hoping to shoo her away. “You can go now.”

But then Edwin’s eyes locked with hers, and his cheeks burned hotter. Agnes’s mouth immediately fell agape, and she sucked in a breath.

“Edwin!” she exclaimed. “You—”

“Don’t say it, Agnes,” he groaned. “Please.”

But Agnes ignored him. Of course.

“You like him!”

“I . . . yes,” Edwin relented.

Agnes looked back and forth between Edwin and the letter. Her eyes blew wider.

“And—and he likes you!”

“Oh . . . maybe. But—”

“How exciting!”

“It isn’t,” Edwin said.