Page 82 of Once a Hero

It would be a long shot, but a sister could wish.

Beatrice had been trying to get Benjamin to leave the house—even for coffee—but he had refused. For years he had been cooped up inside the sprawling ten thousand-acre estate. Walking about in the gardens wasn’t the same as leaving the gates and driving to town.

What was her brother afraid of?

All Beatrice could do was pray for Benjamin, for him to turn over his fears to God.

She looked up at her large monitor anchored to her table. Onscreen, thousands of keys appeared, one after another, an ultra-fast slide show with no ending.

“How could it be this hard to find a match?” Beatrice asked.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Leaning against the door frame, Jake looked as though he needed more sleep.

“How as your nap?”

“Too short, but I didn’t want to miss out. What have you got?” He hobbled toward the desk.

Beatrice pointed to the screen. “Nothing yet. You missed nothing.”

“Do you have to sit here and stare at that?” Jake chuckled.

“Probably not, but I’m a bit anxious. We have nothing to go on at this moment, and we’re flying to Paris.”

“With no plan?”

“Well, we have a plan. It’s the getting-there we need to polish.” Beatrice knew that Molyneux was waiting for them. She wasn’t sure how it would end.

“Where’s the postcard?” Jake asked.

“On the side table over there.”

Beatrice watched Jake shuffle to the armchair. “How’s your leg?”

“It’s better than it looks.” Jake sat down. “I just don’t want to put too much pressure on it before we get to Molyneux so I don’t end up sitting out the championship match, you know?”

“Hope the stitches hold.”

“I think they are the heavy-duty kind.”

“Still, it seems to me that you need to take some time off to heal.” Beatrice hoped he didn’t misunderstand her concern.

“I should, but after this is over.” He flipped the postcard front and back and then checked the sides. “I don’t know much about postcards from the fifties, but are they usually made this thick?”

Beatrice went around the desk. “Maybe some were? I’ve seen postcards made of plastic and wood.”

“Maybe we should x-ray this.” Jake handed it to Beatrice.

When she took the postcard from him, their fingers met. Beatrice tried not to think about it, but the touch was another reminder that she felt attracted to him.

The way Jake looked at her made her think that the feeling was mutual.

But we have here a project between us.

Beatrice sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asked.

She lifted the postcard to the reading light, seemingly ignoring him. It was perhaps best not to pursue this further. She had known him for a year, but he didn’t need to know that.

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