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Simon was used to the crush of people inside, too, and so I kept my face bored as I pushed my way up to the bar But I almost lost my composure when I looked over the crowd Despite arde person in sight The girl next to esturing with a giant glass of so, and it sloshed at me while she spoke to her friends in Gerer," as a philosopher Who I thought was a philosopher Did I know that from The Simpsons? I tried to avoid eye contact

Instead, I ended up staring down the bartender "What’ll it be?" he asked, clearly pegging lish I relish

Ja

"A Pimm’s cup," I said, with fancy posh-boy vowels, because I’d decided that Simon was rich, and because people drank Pimm’s cups at the races I’d seen on television, and yes, it was becoht, I was an awful spy, because if tonight was any indication, ht TV

But the bartender didn’t shrug, or raise an eyebrow He just turned his back to make the drink I made myself relax, oneI put my hat more firmly on the back of my head

My plan had been to nurse my drink and eavesdrop until I heard the Kunstschule Sieben come up in conversation Then I’d sidle over and introducemy uncle over the holiday Maybe you’d know hilish like irl named Gretchen? I met her here last week--et cetera, ad nauseam, until someone mentioned the last place they’d seen either of them, or Leander’s mysterious professor, and I’d be off on a new lead before Holmes showed up on her blond Gaston’s arht it up Like all foolproof plans, it turned out to be ridiculous First off, it was loud in the Old Metropolitan I could barelyspoken around me, much less the actual words Second, I hadn’t counted on the inti up a conversation with strangers, and I couldn’t pin dohy it was proving so difficult now

Maybe because I’d spent the last threeexclusively to someone whose idea of sht, and sank down a little over my drink The last bits of Si at, anyway? I wasn’t any good at this I didn’t even want to be here, in this bar, wincing against the Krautwerk turned up to eleven while the dude next toI leaned out to ask the bartender for et his attention

When I sat back down, I noticed a girl across the bar drawingpretty obvious about it Her sketchpad was braced against her knee, and she kept sneaking glances at lossy black curls and a cute upturned nose, the kind of girl I used to like, when I liked other girls Before I knehat I was doing, I picked up my drink and headed her way

Her eyes widened Then she bit her lip I was feeling pretty confident

Well, Si pretty confident

"Hi," I heard hi charcoals?"

"I aood looks" Where was this crap co from? "What’s your name?"

"Why?" She spoke with an Ahed "But oing to ask you a question, and I want you to tellled her sketchpad toward her body "Maybe"

"Maybe yes or er to the bartender, who ca--"

"A vodka soda--"

"A vodka soda" She hadn’t instantly shot Sirinned at her If there was a part of Jamie somewhere in that smile, both he and I decided not to notice "Is it a maybe yes now?"

Her name was Marie-Helene She was born in Lyon, in France, but the rest of her fa, she said, but really she wanted to live in Hong Kong someday "It’s like it’s a present place that’s in the future," she said She was studying at the Kunstschule Sieben because, when she was a little girl, she’d gotten lost in the Louvre during a fa scared, she’d found herself wandering entranced through the I "I dreater lilies for years after that," she said "I made my parents call me Claude, like Claude Monet"

Simon liked her More than that, I liked her She had an i a secret But a s like Holmes, in fact, and ityou"

I snapped back to focus "What?"

"That look you just had You had it before, too Like your grand And a little disturbing" Marie-Helene turned her sketchbook around to showdown at his hands like he could find sole" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">