Page 45 of Finding Lord Landry

A younger woman with wild brown curls came hustling in as Nan finished speaking. Her eyes lit on the remaining Starbucks, and she quickly plucked it from the tray. “Sweet relief,” she murmured before taking a sip and closing her eyes. “Nan, we have a serious problem.”

Nan cleared her throat and straightened up in her chair. “Cora, this is Kenji Toma. Kenji, this is Cora Davencourt, the earl’s niece and Landry’s first cousin.”

Cora’s eyebrows winged up toward her hairline as she noticed there was a stranger in her midst. She glanced from me to Nan and back. “You’re Landry’s guy?”

Nan nodded. Reg moved toward me to place a collection of very elegant tableware in front of me, dropping a linen napkin in my lap before setting a plate of toast and accoutrements next to it.

I glanced back at Cora. “What do you mean, Landry’s guy?”

Cora and Nan exchanged a look before Cora spoke. “Oh. The, uh… guy Landry was… ehrm, worried about. That’s all.” She flashed her teeth at me in a grimace-smile combination that showed she was a terrible liar.

I sighed and focused on eating some toast. From the corner of my eye, I saw the pretty gray-and-white cat Landry had been cuddling the other night lift its tail and skulk out of the room like it didn’t want to be associated with our bullshit.

I couldn’t blame Turkey. If it weren’t for the ridiculous locks on the front door, I’d escape, too.

Cora looked at Nan before tilting her head toward me. “Back to the problem…”

I blinked. Was she saying I was the problem?

Nan took a sip of her tea. “The crisis management team is on their way. We’ll discuss it when they get here.”

Crisis management? I opened my mouth to politely ask what the fuck was happening when Ed lifted his head from theFinancial Times.

“Kenji? Is that Japanese?”

Finally, a question I understood.

I took a sip of my latte. “Yes, sir. My paternal grandfather was born in Misawa in northeastern Japan. My grandmother was American, but she lived in Japan for a while, and that’s where they met.”

“Oh, really?” The corner of Ed’s newspaper dipped in interest.

I nodded. “Her father was stationed at a nearby air base. My grandmother used to run English classes for some of the local kids and—according to her—one particularly persistent and handsome fisherman who was the worst student she ever had.” I smiled. “When she moved back to the States, her persistent fisherman came with her.”

Cora and Nan continued speaking in hushed tones, but Ed seemed to ignore them, so I did, too.

“Your grandfather must have been very brave to move to the United States and learn a completely different culture and language.”

“He was brave, yes… and also a little sneaky.” I smiled wider, remembering. “It turned out he’d known English for quite some time—he’d simply wanted an excuse to spend time with my grandmother. And he got it. Forty happy years, until he passed away shortly after his retirement.”

Ed set the newspaper down completely and leaned back in his chair. “What a wonderful story. You know, Landry’s mother was an expat as well. It’s a unique experience. Obviously very different if you already speak the language.”

I glanced at Nan and Cora, but they were still lost in their own conversation. “How did you and your wife meet?”

Landry strode back into the room, typing something on his phone, but I resolutely ignored him.

Ed’s face softened into a nostalgic smile. “Olivia saved my life. Well, after she nearly killed me.” He let out a little laugh. “I was preparing to cross the road, you see, when I caught sight of her. She was laughing. Her hair was blowing in the wind, and the motion caught my eye.”

I thought back to the day before when I’d noticed Landry’s hair blowing in the wind in Manta. My eyes flicked to Landry against my will. Fortunately, his were still focused on his phone.

“She was here on a school trip,” Ed continued. “I found that out later. But I stepped into the street to cross, not realizing I was still staring at her. She grabbed me and pulled me back before saying, ‘Look right,’ as if I was an American tourist.” He chuckled again. “Can you imagine? The American was tellingmeto mind the direction of traffic. I was so embarrassed.”

Nan looked away from Cora to glance at him affectionately. “But not too embarrassed to ask where she was staying.”

“No,” Ed said. He shot Nan a charming wink that was a perfect template of the one his son used. “I was embarrassed, not stupid.”

Nan glanced at me. “They became pen pals for five years, if you can believe it. Letters. That was before the internet, of course.”

“Did you know her, too?”

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