My boy shows such promise, Colleen wrote in 1906. The good brothers at Saint Swithin’s concur, and it is with bittersweet pride that I send him off each day to their care.

“He was going to school,” Natalie said. “Oh, Jesus. Look at the day.”

The last entry they found was the sixteenth of April, 1906.

Two days before the earthquake struck.

PART SIX

Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

—ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPÉRY, LE PETIT PRINCE

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.

—ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPÉRY, THE LITTLE PRINCE

23

Trevor came to pick up Natalie and her grandfather for a theater performance. Bertie had a role in a Noël Coward play, and Trevor was taking them to see it and to a light supper after. It was a rainy evening, and she had just finished closing for the night.

“He’s courting you,” Grandy said, bending down to fill Sylvia’s water bowl. His tremor was bad today, and the water sloshed.

“He’s doing a good job,” Natalie admitted, grabbing a paper towel and wiping up the spill. Despite a ridiculous schedule, Trevor found time for Natalie, and she appreciated his patience. He was like his series of books—two-sided, embodying opposite concepts. A wildly popular loner. Successful and insecure. An open book of secrets.

She turned to her grandfather, studying his face. “Are you feeling all right?”

He waved a hand. “I’m feeling old. I’ll be out in the shop, chatting with your suitor.”

She sent a message to the doctor, mentioning Grandy’s tremors and his wheezing. Please don’t let me lose him now.

Jude Lockhart, the associate from Sheffield Auction House, came by the shop, shaking the rain from his shoulders. “Sorry I didn’t call first,” he said. “I have news.”

Natalie briefly introduced him to Trevor. As the two men took each other’s measure, she felt a twinge of exasperation. “What’s up?” she asked.

Jude handed her a folder of printed documents. “George Hearst owned a copy of Birds of America.”

“No kidding. Did you hear that, Grandy?” Natalie turned to Trevor. “His grandmother’s journals make mention of the Audubon books. We had this crazy notion that she might have been given a rare original edition.” She looked back at Jude. “George Hearst was the father of William Randolph Hearst?”

“Right. He was a politician, made his fortune in mining. He had one of the original hand-colored editions, four huge volumes. There were only two hundred copies produced, most of them lost and the rest in private collections or institutions.”

Jude turned to a page in the folder. “Our handwriting analyst at the firm has high confidence that the letter you found is authentic.”