Page 134 of What the River Knows

I would never stop looking for him.

“Inez?” Elvira asked. “Are you all right?”

I handed her the letter and jumped to my feet, thinking hard. I began pacing, waiting impatiently for her to read.

When she finished, she glanced up at me, a puzzled expression on her face. “I’m very confused.”

Quickly, I explained to her what had happened since my first day in Cairo. The golden ring stolen by the wretched Mr. Sterling, the finding of the trinket box in old Cairo, and my having to sneak on board theElephantine. I told her about my uncle, and how the magic had led me to the underground tunnels underneath Trajan’s Kiosk, and then to the hidden staircase in the Temple of Isis. Last, I told her about my mother and what she’d done. Shame burned down my throat. The only person I didn’t mention was Whit.

I was still too raw to even think about him, let alone speak of him.

She listened to everything without saying a word and when I finished, she leaned back against the chair and gnawed her lip. “So there’s been a fair bit that’s happened since leaving Buenos Aires.”

A watery chuckle escaped me. “A bit.”

“We need to go to the authorities,” Elvira said. “Right now. Let’s skip dinner and—”

I shook my head and her voice died down. “It’s not an option. Remember Mr. Sterling? He’s a prominent member of society and has connections in every level of government. I don’t trust him. I can’t trust anyone except for you and perhaps Whit—” I broke off, forgetting that I wasn’t going to bring him up.

Elvira, of course, noticed my slipup. “Whit? Who is Whit? What kind of nameisWhit?”

“His name is Whitford Hayes, and he works for Tío Ricardo,” I said. “The brawny one you couldn’t stop staring at who arrived with us.”

“And you’re on a first-name basis with him? My mother would be scandalized.” She grinned. “I love this. Tell me more.”

“We worked together.” I had to wrangle the conversation back to sensible matters. “We’ve become friends, so please don’t let your wild imagination run away from you. You’re not Emma Woodhouse, despite what you may believe.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m telling you, were she real, we’d be the best of friends. It’s my goal in life to romantically pair off at least one couple. Speaking of, what about my mother and your uncle?”

I made a face. “That’s appalling.”

“They are not related.” She pulled at her lip, blinking fast. “I think my mother is terribly lonely.”

It was hard to picture my aunt that way. She always seemed so impenetrable, a stronghold that would never crumble. “I think you should write your own love stories. You’re a talented writer, Elvira.”

Her eyes widened. “How would you know?”

I winked at her. “I know where the manuscript is hidden, darling.” She pivoted, reaching for a throw pillow, and threw it at my head. It missed me by several feet. “As if you haven’t read my diary!”

“I can’tbelieveyou read—” She broke off, panting. “Do you really think I’m talented?”

“Yes,” I said, crossing the room to give her a tight hug. “The most talented. You need to finish the story, Elvira. Promise me.”

Her eyes lost focus, as if she had wandered into a dream. “Would there be anything better than seeing one of my stories, bound up in leather, and sitting on a shelf in a bookshop?”

“I can think of nothing better,” I whispered. “Youwillfinish it.”

“I promise.” She stepped away. “WillWhitbe at the ball?”

I nodded. “Please wipe that smug smile off your face. He has a fiancée.”

“But he’s not married yet,” she said with a smile. “Maybe there’s a kiss at midnight in your future.”

I rolled my eyes. Whit would certainly never do that again. “I wouldn’t get too excited; we haven’t been invited. My uncle is permitting us to join him for dinner. Last I checked, dinner didn’t mean dancing.”

She blinked innocently at me. “Are you sure? Because if you are, then you’re going to have to explain the invitation that I have in my possession.” With a fluid motion, she revealed a small card on thick cover stock from the pocket of her day dress. Elvira presented it to me with a flourish.

I barely glanced at it. “You already know what you’re going to wear, don’t you?”

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