Page 42 of Heartsong
“Good afternoon,” she said in that lyrical voice of hers, “I hope you’re enjoying the collection.”
“Immensely,” said Glendower, and he reached out his hand again. “Professor Andrew Glendower.”
Anna didn’t miss how the corner of Carrie’s mouth twitched, but ever polite, she reached out to shake the man’s hand. It was her whole body that twitched when their palms contacted, and Anna swore the ends of Carrie’s blonde hair lifted off her back.
Carrie quickly pulled her hand back to place on the desk, though her smile was big and warm enough to hide it. “Glendower,” she said, “you don’t hear Welsh names like that often anymore.”
“I’m proud of my heritage.Fe godwn ni eto.”
Carrie cocked her head as if she’d heard something strange. “How long has your family been in the States, professor?”
“Oh, a while yet. And yourself? That is a lovely accent I hear. Northern Welsh, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Something like that,” Carrie agreed without agreeing. “My husband and I have been here for a time, mostly to open the museum. We greatly enjoy it here.”
“You and your husband have a fine collection, Mrs. Gwyneth.”
Both Carrie and Anna stared at the man, sure that Carrie hadn’t given her name. But then, it wasn’t really a secret who the Gwyneths were. Their names and pictures were on the website. You had to dig for the pictures a little, but they were there, and more than one newspaper and magazine had done a story when the museum first opened.
“Thank you, we are quite proud of it.”
“I was just pestering your lovely docent here about it. I’ve never seen pieces like these.”
“They are quite rare. Quite special.”
“Indeed. Where, may I ask, did you find them all?”
“Europe, mostly,” said Carrie. “It took many years.”
Anna waited, like Glendower, for more, but when Carrie smiled and said nothing else, she was puzzled. She got not wanting to give the pushy patron any more information; even if they were a museum with art on public display, Carrie didn’t owe this guy shit. Still, Anna had expected something likewe inherited a lot of it and bought the rest. Surely one of them had to have inherited the bulk of the collection—all of it couldn’t have been sourced and purchased in one lifetime.
Glendower asked a few more questions, all of which Carrie answered with the same polite vagueness she had the others. Eventually, the man bid them farewell, another pleasant smile on his face, and headed for the front door.
Carrie remained beside her even after they couldn’t see the back of the retreating professor anymore.
“What a strange man,” said Carrie eventually.
“Did you catch that he was an early medievalist professor? He’s probably sniffing around looking for a research opportunity.”
“Do you think so? Hmm.”
When Carrie didn’t elaborate, Anna couldn’t help asking, “Do you know what it meant when he saidfe godwn ni eto?”
She knew Carrie and Gavin both spoke Welsh, rare as it was these days. In fact, they seemed to speak several old Brittonic languages as well as the modern ones of Europe. Now that she thought about it, Gavin supposedly had been a professor himself. She wondered if he’d know Glendower. Early medieval studies with a focus on druids wasn’t a large section of the academic population.
Carrie was quiet another moment before replying, “It means ‘we will rise again.’”
Anna’s stomach lurched in her gut. Seriously, who was that guy?
“He’s been here before?” Carrie asked.
“Yeah, he’s one of the regulars. He hasn’t stopped to chat before, though.”
“Hm. Let me know if he does, please.”
“Of course.”
That Carrie’s feathers were ruffled just as much as hers only worried Anna more, her heart beginning to strum faster than a heavy metal guitarist.
