“These?”

“Those. Do you actually have a prescription or is this purely for professor hipster aesthetic purposes?”

“Does it matter? Or will you lie and say you despise them regardless?”

“I’m not—”

“Ah, there she is.”

My mouth snaps shut around my words as a familiar voice interrupts from down the hall.

I execute a slow turn on my heel to look at Samuel, dressed in an impeccable suit, with a mahogany cane and his free hand looped on Dr. Takahashi’s arm. “My beloved niece, Bria,” he says.

“Uncle.” I try to keep the wariness beneath a smooth veneer as I step into the hall, the two men slowing to a halt before me. My surprise is etched into a smile that feels wooden and fake as I kiss each of Samuel’s cheeks in our customary greeting. “What are you doing here?”

A devilish gleam shines in his eyes. I hear Dr. Kaplan’s chair scrape across the floor and then his footsteps as he approaches. Samuel doesn’t take his eyes from mine, but I know it’s not me he’s watching. “I’ve come to take you for lunch.”

“Did we have plans I forgot about? I’m not supposed to pick you up until four o’clock. Does Cedar Ridge know you’re here?”

Samuel chuckles as though he’s the sweetest, gentlest old man to ever walk the earth. “My darling, Cedar Ridge is not a prison. Can an old man not take his favorite niece for a birthday lunch?”

We eye one another, me with suspicion and Samuel with devious amusement.

“Dr. Kaplan,” Dr. Takahashi says, oblivious to the silent exchange between us as Kaplan stops just behind me. “I’d like to introduce Professor Emeritus, Samuel Brooks. Professor Brooks was dean of the College of Engineering. He retired a year before you joined us. Professor Brooks, this is Dr. Elijah Kaplan, one of our faculty members specializing in Forensic Psychology.”

Kaplan’s surprise seems to vibrate in the space between us. “Professor Brooks, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. Your illustrious reputation precedes you. I didn’t realize you and Bria were related,” Kaplan says as he shakes Samuel’s hand.

“Yes. Don’t let that tarnish your opinion of my dear Bria,” Samuel replies with a smile as Dr. Takahashi laughs warmly beside him.

“I believe you were noted as being harsh but fair,” Takahashi says as he pats Samuel’s arm.

“That depends on who you ask.”

Dr. Takahashi laughs again, his attention on my uncle as I give Samuel an admonishing lift of my brow. “I must go, I have a meeting,” Dr. Takahashi says. “It’s been a treat to catch up, Professor Brooks. Thank you again for contributing to Edward’s party, he had a wonderful time.”

“My pleasure.”

With a nod to each of us, Dr. Takahashi continues down the hall, leaving me caught between a snake and its prey.

“Uncle.”

“Bria.”

“Shall we?”

Samuel’s grin widens. “No need to rush, Bria. I’ve hardly gotten a chance to know Dr. Kaplan.” Samuel shifts to face the man next to me with a thud of his cane on the floor. “In fact, why don’t you join us for lunch, Dr. Kaplan?”

“I couldn’t possibly intrude.”

“Dr. Kaplan’s very busy, Uncle. He has students to see,” I say, taking Samuel’s free arm as I send Kaplan a death glare.

It does not have the intended effect.

“Actually, you know what? I do have a few hours free, if you’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

Samuel beams, ignoring the daggers I imagine driving into his brain. I’m starting to think it’s not Kaplan who’s the prey for the old serpent, but me. “Not at all,” Samuel says, his voice so sweet there’s not even a hint of venom in its depths.

“Don’t you have classes to teach?” I ask as Kaplan’s dimple flashes in his dark stubble. “Or jackets to sew?”

Kaplan pulls his glasses from the interior pocket and inspects one of the new suede patches as I roll my eyes. “Seems to be holding up well, from what I can see.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling as Kaplan gives me a rakish grin. When he sees me trying to subdue it, his face lights up in the most irritating, spellbinding way. He enjoys getting under my skin just as much as I enjoy burrowing under his. Though I want to loathe him for it, it seems as though there are moments when it’s becoming harder to try.

I sigh, letting my gaze fall across the fabric with disdain. “I apologize in advance if something accidentally stains it irreparably.”

“I’m sure you would feel horrible.”

“So horrible. I’d never forgive myself.”

“If you collect fine tweed, Dr. Kaplan, one of our residents who recently passed away at Cedar Ridge had some jackets that might fit you,” Samuel says as we make our way to the elevator. I give Kaplan a piercing look and he smiles as though this is the best news he’s ever received. “Richard was smaller than you but wore clothes that were too big. Likely overcompensating, you understand.”

“No—” I say at the same time as Kaplan emphatically says yes.

The two men make arrangements for Kaplan’s possible acquisition of Dick Piston’s wardrobe, and before long we’re on our way to a farm-to-table restaurant in the Buena Vista neighborhood where there’s a mixture of expensive condos and upscale restaurants and designer shops. Blue Stone Kitchen is not the usual kind of place Samuel would take me, with its rough limestone walls and original beams holding up a low ceiling from which greenery sways in the air conditioning. It’s got too much character and warmth for his taste, but he seems pleased as the hostess leads us to a worn plank table and sets up an extra place for Dr. Kaplan.

I give Samuel a quizzical look. His only reply is a dark gleam in his eyes.

Samuel gestures for me to take the seat that gives me the best view of the entrance and the seating area, while he claims the spot to my left where he’ll have a similar view, and Kaplan the seat to my right. We order a bottle of wine and appetizers to share and the conversation flows easily. Samuel is charming and funny, regaling us with tales of Berkshire’s faculty and gossip from Cedar Ridge, of which there’s plenty. He tells stories of residents that can reel a person in, and before long you care about what happened to Rachel Kennedy’s false teeth or how Clyde Masterson the former studio musician, and Eliza Mancini the retired opera singer have struck up a passionate romance. Through another lens, this moment could tell its own sweet fairy tale. An elderly uncle, putting his niece at ease by charming the man at her side.

But that’s not what this is.

Movement at the door catches my eye as a powerfully built man walks in, removing a pair of sunglasses as he scans the room. I avert my gaze to Samuel before the man’s eye can catch mine.

Praetorian.

I recognize him as one of the men I saw leaving the building, but not the same man who escorted Cynthia to the nail salon. The hostess directs him to a table for two at the window. She removes a place setting.

Kaplan is talking about a conference he went to with Dr. Wells and the server is placing our appetizers on the table, but Samuel and I are having a silent conversation in the glances between us.

Watch the server. 

Check the time.

13:08. 

Did you see that? 

You’re a sneaky old man. Possibly a wizard. 

Just you wait.

Samuel distracts Kaplan with conversation while I get a better look at the interaction between the server and the bodyguard. There’s affection. Familiarity. But some kind of barrier. They’re not together, but they want to be. He’s here to eat by himself so he can talk to her. He’s wearing a suit. His pants look freshly pressed. His tie is neatly knotted.

He’s coming up on a shift change.

I take a breath and close my eyes. There’s so much distraction with the music and conversation. Even the scent of the food makes it harder to focus, and I need to see the details clearly. I placed the most important appointments of Cynthia’s schedule this week on a series of missing person posters on the fence surrounding my memory palace. I’m looking for an appointment at two o’clock, but there are gaps in her calendar.