Page 97 of The Phoenix Bride
We go to Temple Bar.
Jan is waiting for us there. When Sam sees him, he lights up brighter than the North Star, and he greets him with a sort of bashful enthusiasm that makes Jan look exceedingly smug. I give Jan a very harsh look, just to put the fear of God into him, but I’m not certain it does very much. He steers Sam around the street with his arm wrapped around his shoulder and his lips right at his ear, and I begin to wonder if I shouldn’t just leave.
The building that once held the coffeehouse is entirely gone. All that remains is a foundation of gray stone and a few toppled wooden beams, punctuated at the front by the stone archway that had once framed the door, and has now somehow remained standing. The portal created has something almost arcane about it, as if I might step through it and find myself in fairyland; beyond it, the ground is littered with heavier pieces of rubble too difficult to shift, and a few green sprouts where grass has repopulated booths once full of patrons. It is difficult to imagine the building reconstructed, but certainly, it must be possible. The proof of that is all around us, the skyline full of scaffolding and the street thick with brick-laden carts.
“…rooms above,” Jan is saying to Sam. “And a garden space, too, for spices—we might lease some of the soil to David in exchange for his help.”
At David’s name I spin to look at them—I had been inspecting the foundations of the back wall—and both men look like they are about to laugh.
“Anything of interest, Cecilia?” Jan asks.
“Well—” My face flushes. “Ididfind something, actually. Come look.”
I bring them to the back of the foundations. Beside a low wall, I crouch; they do the same.
“There,” I say, pointing. “Do you see it?”
It is a sapling, taking shelter behind the scorch-marked brick.
Jan seems delighted. “How on earth did that happen?”
I reply, “I don’t know. It’s sweet, though. Jan, do you know what kind of tree it is?”
“I do not, sadly.”
“Perhaps David could tell you.”
He smiles at me. We all stand. “Perhaps.”
“Iknow what kind of tree it is,” Sam says, miffed. “I do know some things, actually.”
I pat his arm. “Forgive me. What is it?”
“A linden.”
I laugh. “Really?”
“Yes,” Sam replies with great bravado—and whether or not he is correct, I choose to believe him.
We all return to the street.
“Well?” Jan asks.
“Well what?” I say.
Jan and Sam trade a look. Then Sam says meekly, “Jan would like us to invest in his purchase of the land.”
I raise my brows. Jan leaps to add, “I truly do believe it will be a sound investment. The coffeehouse here previously did a roaring trade—all we need is the money to rebuild.”
“I’m for it,” Sam says without hesitation. “It all seems very exciting. But Cecilia must agree. It’s her money, too.”
Both men turn to me expectantly.
“Very well,” I say, and Sam claps and cheers. I raise my hand. “On one condition.”
“Anything,” Jan says.
“You must let the linden grow.”
