Her reaction brought to mind Amanda’s admission that Ed hadn’t been the most faithful of husbands. I quickly raised a pacifying hand.
“Not that kind,” I assured her. “I never met your father. I wasn’t even sure where New Zealand was until a few days ago, but I’ve seen an awful lot of it since then. I’ve been chasing you all over the place. I’ve followed you from Auckland to the Hokianga and from Ohakune to Wellington. I’ve spoken with your horrible landlady and your father’s nurse. I’ve spent time with Amanda and Daniel, Angelo and Renee, Kitta and Kati, and Holly and Gary, among others, because I had to find out where you were. I said it was a long story, but I should have called it an epic saga. And now here I am, sitting in the Queenstown Gardens, face-to-face with you at last. I don’t think I would have gone to all of that trouble if I were one of your father’s, um, acquaintances.”
“Why did you go to all of that trouble?” Bree asked, looking understandably bewildered.
“For one thing, I had to return this to you.” I pulled Ruru out of my pack, smoothed his mottled wings, and deposited him gently in Bree’s hands. “Try not to lose him again, okay?”
“Where did you find him?” asked Bree, peering dazedly at the bedraggled little owl.
“You left him behind when you sneaked out of the Velesuonnos’ condo,” I said, “which, by the way, was a pretty thoughtless thing to do.”
“How do you know—”
“I’m sure you were embarrassed about the hissy fit you threw at the tattoo parlor,” I interrupted, “but you shouldn’t have disappeared like a thief in the night. Kati and Kitta deserved a more polite farewell. As a matter of fact, so did Roger, but we did what we could to make it up to him. My friend Cameron paid for the glasses and the lamp, which reminds me,” I went on, struck by a sudden thought, “I have to pay him back.”
“Cameron?” said Bree. “Who’s Cameron?”
“He’s my native guide,” I explained. “Without his help, and his airplane, and his encyclopedic knowledge of your country, I never would have found you.”
“Why did you want to find me?” Bree demanded, her dark eyes flashing. “Why have you been following me?”
“Because I’m doing a favor for two very dear old ladies,” I answered calmly. “Ruth and Louise Pym are my friends as well as my neighbors. They also happen to be your great-grandaunts.”
Bree’s mouth fell open and the color drained from her face. She stared at me in dumbfounded disbelief, then whispered, “The English aunts? It’s not possible. They must be dead by now.”
“They’re not. They’re just getting on in years. Would you like a biscuit?” I asked, taking Donna’s chintz-patterned tin out of my pack. “Sugar is good for shock and you look as though you’re about to pass out.”
“I feel as if I’ve seen a ghost,” Bree said faintly.
“I know the feeling,” I told her, with complete sincerity, “but Ruth and Louise aren’t ghosts. They may not be in the best of health, but they’re still alive. At least they were alive when I spoke with my husband last night. The situation may have changed since then, though I hope it hasn’t.” I opened the tin and held it out to Bree. “Help yourself. Something tells me that we’ll be here for a while.”
Bree munched on Anzac biscuits and listened almost without blinking while I repeated everything Fortescue Makepeace and Aunt Dimity had told me about Aubrey Jeremiah Pym, Sr., and his identical twin sisters. By the time I finished, the sky had turned from blue to steely gray and a brisk wind had begun to whip the treetops. Bree had donned her hooded sweatshirt midway through my monologue and I’d slipped into my rain jacket.
“Ruth and Louise didn’t know your branch of the family existed until they found the letter in their mother’s trunk,” I concluded.
“They asked me to come to New Zealand because they wanted to reach out to their nephew—your grandfather—before it was too late.”
“But Granddad was dead,” Bree said, “and my father was dead. So you came to find me.”
“You’re Ruth’s and Louise’s only surviving relative,” I said, reaching into my day pack for the letter Bill had e-mailed to Donna Mackenzie. “Look, Bree, I realize that the situation may seem improbable, but—”
“It doesn’t seem improbable to me,” she broke in. “Ruth and Louise aren’t the only members of my family who’ve been kept in the dark. I didn’t know a thing about my great-grandfather until I read Granddad’s obituary. He wrote it himself.” Her brow furrowed as she rummaged through her book bag. “He must have written it during the day, while I was at school.”