Chapter 48

Sarah POV

The summit continued in a flurry of panels and meetings for Zane while I watched the girls and attended two more cocktail gatherings. I managed to jazz up my black suit for one of them and then just made a quick shopping trip for a lacy rose thing for the other.

And the second-to-last day of the summit, Zane managed to beg off on yet another round table discussion, loaded up the rental van with me, the girls, and our bodyguards and headed out for what he called a “special picnic.”

After not long at all for Los Angeles driving time, by which I mean under an hour, we ended up in a place I’d never heard of, the Los Angeles County Arboretum. Right inside the entrance, however, I recognized a small building I knew from the opening credits of Fantasy Island, a show I loved as a child.

The girls had never heard of it and looked at me sideways when I explained about it with excitement. I made a face to make them laugh, and Zane assured me that he remembered the show.

“Way to make me feel old,” I grumbled.

As we walked further inside, I recognized a number of locations from various TV shows. It made sense, but it was fun trying to remember just where I had seen this lagoon and that garden.

We ended up in the Celebration Garden, which was beautiful, to find they’d set us up with a picnic table and a lovely spread of drinks, sandwiches, potato and fruit salads, some pastries, and a loaded charcuterie board. I also noticed a few guards who were keeping people out of the garden.

We were all hungry and fell on the lunch with gusto while the bodyguards made sure we weren’t disturbed. I saw some people at a distance holding up their phones, but I knew they wouldn’t be able to see us well with all the flowering shrubs and trees around us. I just hoped no one showed up with the telephoto lens.

The girls wanted to go exploring after lunch, but Zane and I explained to them firmly that they couldn’t go outside the Celebration Garden because it wasn’t safe. They seemed to understand and wandered around reading the names of the plants on the little plaques.

Zane reached over to the bottle of Chardonnay chilling in an ice bucket and uncorked it with a celebratory pop. “Human label,” he said with a smile.

“I’m getting so spoiled.” I sighed. “This is beautiful. Thank you for arranging this.”

“I found this place on my second summit trip. I was desperate for some grass and trees after being cooped up in that convention center for three days, and Alpha Antonio told me I wasn’t actually expected to attend every meeting and if I couldn’t find something fun to do in Los Angeles there was no hope for me.”

I chuckled and sipped at my wine.

“I try to get here at least once a trip now.” He looked over at his children and smiled. “Glad to see it looks like a hit with them too.”

I nodded. “So, what’s left to do for the summit?”

“Tonight we hold our final elections. I’ll be given a report on my new territory, and I’ll officially make Alpha Marin my second in command, so she’ll still by in charge for the most part. I do want her to investigate some reports of child marriage in her hill country, so I’ll need to explain the parameters there.”

He scowled at his glass. “If she hadn’t fought so well, I would think she let me win. Her territory’s been having financial troubles for generations now, and I’m thinking she challenged me for my financial resources.”

“So either she would get your money or her pack would?”

“Exactly.”

We sat in the dappled sunlight and watched the bees tending to the flowers.

“She offered me a fertile alpha from one of their premiere families,” he said with a sly smile.

“To procreate with?”

“Tsk. Tsk, Sarah. To marry.”

“And you said no? I’m sure this fertile alpha must be heartbroken.”

“Wept for days, I hear.”

“Locked herself up in a tower and made a vow of celibacy?”

“Now, let’s not get foolish about it.”

We both nodded then burst out laughing. The girls ran over to see what was funny and ended up cuddling, Grace with her father and Chloe with me.

“Did you bring the book?” Chloe asked.

“Of course,” Zane said then reached into what I had thought was an emptied picnic basket to pull out the book in question. I took it with a laugh and opened it up.

“One day the Emperor received a large parcel, in which was written ‘The Nightingale.”

“‘There we have a new book about this celebrated bird,’ said the Emperor.

“But it was not a book, but a little work of art, contained in a box, and artificial nightingale, which was to sing like the natural one, and brilliantly ornamented with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. So soon as the artificial bird was wound up, he could sing one of the pieces that the real one sang, and then his tail moved up and down, and shone with silver and gold. Round his neck hung a little ribbon, and on that was written, ‘The Emperor of Japan’s nightingale is poor compared to that of the Emperor of China.’

“‘That is capital!’ said they all, and he who had brought the artificial bird immediately received the title, Imperial Head-Nightingale-Bringer.

“‘Now they must sing together; what a duet that will be!’

“And so they had to sing together; but it did now sound well, for the real Nightingale sang in its own way, and the artificial bind sang waltzes.

“‘That’s not his fault,’ said the playmaster; ‘he’s quite perfect, and very much in my style.’

“Now the artificial bird was to sing alone. He had just as much success as the real one, and then it was much handsomer to look at —it shone like bracelets and breastpins.

“Three and thirty times over did it sing the same piece, and yet it was not tired. The people would have heard it again, but the that the living Nightingale ought to sing something now. But where was it? No one had noticed it had flown away out of the window, back to the green wood.”

Zane’s phone rang. He looked at the screen, excused himself, and walked away from the table.

“I don’t like that part,” Grace said quietly. “I don’t like when they don’t pay attention to the real Nightingale.”

“It’s very mean of them,” I agreed.

Zane walked back, looking satisfied. “They caught him, the shooter. Evidently, he’s some anti-human nut-job and claims he was only trying to frighten you.”

“Do the police believe him?” I asked.

“Either way, he’s in jail.” Zane sighed in satisfaction. “We can go home now.”