Seeing is Believing Read Free

earrings. The design Cafon had picked was simple and elegant, but simple nonetheless.
    "I don't suppose you could do me the favor of delivering them when they're complete?" Cafon asked, looking briefly annoyed about something. "Unfortunately, I have to go out of town for a few days."
    "Wouldn't it be easier for us to hold them for your return?" Teofil suggested.
    "I don't think I'll have time between finishing this business and our anniversary to make it back here," Cafon said, his handsome face shaping into a frown. "I will leave instructions for my head servant to expect you?"
    "All right," Teofil accepted, ignoring his misgivings. Something about this didn't seem right, but Cafon was one of the nicer customers he'd dealt with, so he'd make an exception.
    "Thank you," Cafon said, tension leaking from his shoulders. "I knew leaving it until the last moment was going to cause extra trouble."
    Teofil laughed, willing to bet that Cafon waited until the last moment every year. He wondered briefly if Lord Rathiel did the same and if the man was buying Cafon something equally expensive.
    But that was none of his business. Jewelry making was; that was what he should be doing now.
    "Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?" Teofil asked, clearing up the rejected designs and tucking them away. They might appeal to another customer later.
    "No, I believe that's all," Cafon answered, smiling happily. "I shall return though. Rath's birthday is in a few months."
    "I shall prepare designs for matching cufflinks," Teofil promised, only half joking.
    Cafon laughed delightedly, standing up. "Excellent. I will cover him in expensive jewelry in spite of his protests. Thank you again, Master Teofil. I will be sure to commend your work to all who care to listen to me for more than a moment."
    Teofil flushed a little—he was still an assistant, but it didn't hurt to have his name out there. Shaking Cafon's hand, he bid the pleasant noble goodbye before turning back to his worktable to finish up his current order.
    *~*~*
    There were yellow roses mixed through the clusters of red roses he'd placed around his kitchen. Sighing in resignation, Teofil set down his bag and locked the door behind him.
    Turning back to the kitchen, Teofil allowed himself a moment to admire the new roses before a small, blank envelope caught his eye, propped against the giant vase in the center of his table.
    Teofil crossed the kitchen slowly, as though the envelope would disappear if he stared at it for too long. He picked up the envelope with trembling fingers, not sure he really wanted to know what the note said.
    The gifts were anonymous, almost impersonal. A note … He couldn't dismiss a note quite as easily. Teofil wondered briefly, crazily, if the gifts had perhaps been meant for someone else, and he'd find the note addressed to someone else as well.
    Carefully breaking the seal of the envelope, Teofil removed the pages inside. There were a good many pages, and at the top of the first his name was written in an unfamiliar, elegant script.
    Teofil stared at his name for a long moment before reading the rest of the words on the page. It was a poem, he realized after a few lines. An old-fashioned, romantic epic; one of the poems his mother had often read to him when he was a child. It was one of her favorites, despite it being unfashionable for featuring a three-way relationship rather than a conventional couple.
    Teofil sat down, even more unsettled than he had been before opening the envelope. Why that poem? Was it chosen for its content? Or for his familiarity with it? But that wasn't something that just anyone would know. Not even Wystan would know he knew this poem.
    And no one who knew would have the ability to buy him such lavish gifts, nor would they tell such a thing to a rich stranger.
    That left content. He didn't have a secret admirer. He had two. But that made even less sense than having a single admirer, unless it was a rich couple seeking