Page 138 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
“You finally noticed?” Uncle Jackie smiled lazily. “We’ll get on, I think. People see Amaranthine courtesies and interpret them as romantic overtures. Leads to every kind of trouble. Clanfolk are forever breaking hearts.”
Akira darted a look at Suuzu and whispered, “He’s not happy, but he’s not angry anymore.”
“Your nestmate is a reasonable fellow.”
This time, when Uncle Jackie played with his hair, Akira was thinking about how it might look. He tensed.
“None of that,” Jacques chided. “Or they’ll think I mishandle you.”
Akira felt bad.
Judging by his sad eyes, Uncle Jackie felt worse. “If it helps, pretend I’m utterly harmless. Like Deece or Sonnet.”
“Okay, yeah. That actually helps a lot.” Akira relaxed under Jacques’ hand and asked, “Are you doing this for Suuzu’s sake or for mine?”
“Yours. And mine.”
“You want to practice?”
“We need to. Here, we still have the luxury of discussion. So if you don’t like something, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
Akira wasn’t sure he liked any of this. But it wasn’t Uncle Jackie’s fault.
“As I was saying,” Jacques murmured, picking up his former thread. “Argent does listen to me. Especially when I’m correct. Because, the way I see it, this is no longer a matter of seizing custody of a thief. You want to make peace with Papa Socks. And peace talks require balance.”
FORTY-EIGHT
Interested Parties
After they returned to her room, Fumiko urgently asked, “Have you seen a portfolio?
“Several.” Juuyu’s posture shifted, and he tipped his head in an attentive way. “Can you describe the one you have in mind?”
“This big.” She held her hands out to show the length. “Blue. With a flap that’s tied with a thick string, like a shoelace. And it’s full of lovely drawings of Ephemera. It was a gift from one of Soren’s grandchildren, an artist.”
“I have not seen the item you have described.”
Could it be gone? Things did get lost. “I wanted to show it to Akira. But now I think it would make a nice present. He was wishing to see more Ephemera, and I thought ….”
Juuyu slid his hand under hers and said, “It may yet be found. This is the only room I have not undertaken.”
“Would you?”
“Gladly.” And without further explanation, he stood gazing at an overflowing curio cabinet.
Fumiko eased away from him, found a book, and curled up under a crocheted coverlet. It was nice, having him close. When he began softly humming, it was even nicer.
He only distracted her a few times. Once, when he trilled over finding a small cup with a strawberry on it. Another, when he offered a similar greeting, having located a dainty blue punch glass in the bottommost drawer of a man’s chest. And again, when an excess of grumbling brought it to her attention that he was halfway under her bed.
The sun was well set before he said, “Fumiko.”
She glanced up, then fumbled for a bookmark. Using a seahorse sock to save her place, she hurried to join Juuyu at the edge of the bed. In his hands was a blue portfolio, somewhat faded by age.
“You found it.”
“I did.”
“May I give it to Akira?”
