Window on the Square by Whitney Phyllis A.;

Author:Whitney, Phyllis A.;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance
Published: 2017-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

Jeremy’s face glowed with pleasure at sight of his uncle, and he dispatched Henry at once to set a third place. The carrousel lent a touch of gay color in its place of honor in the center of the table and, as Brandon seated me and took his own place, it caught his eye.

“What have we here?” he asked, leaning forward to examine it.

Jeremy explained. “It’s a music box that belonged to Miss Megan’s brother. When it’s wound it plays a tune and the little horses and sleigh go round and round.”

“Wind it for us, Jeremy,” I directed.

He picked up the toy as though it were made of glass and turned the key carefully. The gay little carrousel whirled, and the tune tinkled lightly through the room. Brandon laughed aloud and nodded his approval of so remarkable a centerpiece.

So it was that our soup was served to the tune of “Frère Jacques” and it seemed as fine a melody to my ears as though violins had played for us.

Our guest was on his best behavior, the cold mood that had been upon him when he entered the house had faded, and he was ready to join us in our pretense for the evening. He entertained us with stories of his travels, to Jeremy’s delight and my own enjoyment. He told us of the Nile and the great temples of Egypt. He called up before us the Sphinx of Giza, that most mysterious of all Egyptian monuments, and described for us the awesome sight of that stone face, bathed in the brilliance of a desert sky. The Watcher in the Sands, they called it, he said, and made us know the terrible intensity of its gaze as small human figures approached across the vast desert.

“I always feel that the eyes are commanding me,” he told us. “I go back again and again to find the meaning of that look, yet I never have an answer. Even today we don’t know whether the Sphinx represents a god or an ancient king, or both. And I suppose we will never know what it is it asks of us.”

“Like Osiris?” Jeremy said, and smiled a secret smile that made me know he was thinking of the surprise he had fashioned for his uncle’s Christmas gift.

Brandon studied him for a moment. “No, not like Osiris. The Sphinx doesn’t judge. It merely poses an unfathomable riddle. Perhaps the very riddle of life itself.”

How strange an experience was that dinner—perhaps for all of us. At first I was merely happy and pleased and innocent, a little like Jeremy in my enjoyment of a party occasion. I was glad that I had dressed with care and that candlelight lay gently upon me, that the look in Brandon’s eyes was flattering. I felt at ease with him, and no longer angry or resentful. No longer abashed, as I sometimes found myself in his company.

Yet how subtly my mood began to change, how inevitably my thoughts began to turn in a direction I did not want to contemplate.

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