“I wasn’t prepared.”
“No one ever is.”
“Is it a family name?”
“No. My mom’s obsessed with Gertrude Stein.”
“Ah.”
“Are you named after anyone?”
“Felix the Cat.”
“Mmm, that tracks. You look just like him.”
“Thanks.”
“You know, I was wondering,” she says. “Why is it that you’re named Felix when both of your sisters have ‘P’ names? Why not Percy or something.”
“Felix is actually my middle name.”
“What’s your first name?”
“Peregrine.”
Hope throws back her head and laughs. Not like “ha ha.” More like a full-throated cackle. “No it’s not,” she says. “Stop.”
“I don’t see what’s so funny. My full name is Peregrine Charles Felix Segrave.”
“Am I in a regency romance novel right now? Because that’s the only place I’ve ever seen the name Peregrine.”
“I don’t know about regency. But I can provide the romance part, obviously,” I say, gesturing at the overblown tablescape.
She smiles at me.
“Obviously,” she says softly.
“Before we get to that part,” I say, “do you want to order food? I’m starving.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I hand her the room service menu. “Want to take a look?”
“Sure. What are you in the mood for?”
“Surprise me.”
She takes the menu and walks inside. I hear her speaking on the phone, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. She comes back and spreads some brie onto a cracker.
“So, Sir Peregrine,” she says. “I want to continue to interrogate you.”
“Sounds relaxing.”
“First, how old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“When’s your birthday?”
