Page 21 of Hearts of Briarwall

“Yes, of course.” She grasped the griffin by his head and back end, her fingers supporting the uplifted wings as she tilted the clock backward.

Just as she was about to release one hand to feel the underside of the base, something shifted beneath her fingers. She gasped.

“What is it?” Florrie asked.

“Are you hurt?” Andrew asked.

“The wing,” Mr. Hayes whispered.

She turned, surprised at his nearness, but nodded. Neither of them retreated this time, and she found it difficult to swallow. He barely nodded in the direction of the clock. Focusing on the griffin, she set it back down and carefully took hold of the brass wing that had moved in her grip. First, she tried a rotating motion, attempting to move the wing forward or backward with no success. Then she gently pulled the wing away from the body.

A small click sounded, and they all gasped. Florrie and Andrew hurried around the table. Precisely along the lower edge where the wing met the body, the metal separated and swung outward on a hidden arm hinge, revealing an elongated compartment where a wing joint would be.

Nestled in that compartment was a small, perfect, clock key.

“Why, Frederick,” Mr. Hayes said quietly, “you sly old dog.”

Florrie clapped her hands in delight. “Let’s wind it and see if it works.”

Lydia retrieved the small brass key and held it toward Mr. Hayes. “Would you do the honors?”

Mr. Hayes looked to Andrew, who nodded his acquiescence. He reached for the key, and his fingers brushed hers.

Her breath caught at the warm touch she felt even through her gloves, and she swallowed to cover her reaction.

His gaze flickered to hers, then away, the key in his hand. He pulled the clock closer, turning it to access the back of the round timepiece. Inserting the key into a corresponding slot, he took a breath and began to wind.

He paused.

“What is it?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

A half-smile formed at his lips, and he shook his head. “I’m simply surprised by how eager I am for this to work.”

She released a quiet laugh and nodded. “It’s almost silly, and yet ...”

“And yet.” He quirked an eyebrow and continued winding. He turned the key once more, seemed to meet with resistance, and stopped. “There.”

He extracted the key, lifted his hands away from the clock, and all four of them leaned in closer, an ear toward the griffin.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Mr. Hayes’s eyes grew large just as hers did, and they all leaped with a joyful shout. Masculine arms were thrown around Lydia, and she returned the embrace, enveloped by cedar and sandalwood. Her hands gripped broad, muscular shoulders as she laughed. So warm.

With a shock, she jumped away as quickly as Mr. Hayes did, and she immediately turned to find a somewhat disheveled Florrie, rosy-cheeked and reaching for her, eyes alight. The girls embraced, laughing unsteadily, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the men grinned, shaking hands, then patting one another on the back.

“After that victory, I feel obligated to display the thing in a more prominent place,” Andrew said, more pleased than Lydia had seen her brother look in a long while.

“Ithas a name, don’t forget,” Mr. Hayes answered, laughing.

“I’ll have a placard made.”

When they’d settled down, Mr. Hayes knelt once more, turning the clock to the front again and using the other end of the key in a small hole on the clockface to set the hands to the current time. Andrew informed him the second the minute switched on his pocket watch.

Task complete, Mr. Hayes stood again and held out the key toward Lydia, his gaze lowered. She held out her hand, and he dropped the key in her palm. “It is yours to conceal once more, Miss Wooding.”

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