Golden Lies - Barbara Freethy [110]
"A few, not that I have time."
"I have a feeling you'll make time."
"You could take the class with me."
She laughed. "You'd trust me with a long blade in my hand?"
"Only if mine is bigger."
"Spoken like a true man."
Before Riley could reply, Ben rejoined them. "I'm ready now. Please forgive the delay. If you'll follow me, we'll go see my uncle."
Paige smiled at Riley as he sent a look of longing at the sparring about to take place, this time with long, pointed spears. "Come on," she said, grabbing his arm. "You can play later. We have work to do."
Chapter Twenty
"My uncle, Guy Fong, still teaches calligraphy classes every Saturday night," Ben said as they approached the upstairs apartment. "He may be finishing up with his students. If so, we will have to wait patiently and quietly. He does not tolerate interruptions."
Paige nodded as Ben opened the door. As he had said, there were three adolescents sitting at the dining room table, carefully painting Chinese characters with long, ornate brushes.
They moved in closer so they could watch what the children were doing. Paige was surprised by the preciseness of their script, the attention to detail, the concentration of three kids who surely would have wanted to do something else on a Saturday night. Ben's uncle stood at one end of the table, a short man with a square face and thick black hair. His eyes were a piercing black, his expression stern and uncompromising as he watched his young charges. If she'd had to guess at his age, she would have said mid-forties, but she couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was the otherworldliness of what was happening in the room that made him seem older.
Time obviously passed slowly in this apartment where an ancient art was being taught to children who were being raised in an age of video games and fast food, fast everything. It seemed extraordinary that they would be painting characters instead of pounding a keyboard or moving a mouse. But apparently Mr. Fong was a man who believed in traditions. Paige respected that. It was nice to see something being preserved and passed on from one generation to the next. There was too little of that in the world.
She was also beginning to see where her father's passion for China and everything Chinese had come from. He loved old things, traditions that never changed, rituals and ceremonies. He'd been born in the wrong century and the wrong place. Maybe it was people like her father and Mr. Fong who were meant to show others the value of such time-honored customs.
A few moments later, the children set down their brushes and the tension in the room eased as Mr. Fong nodded approvingly at each paper passed to him. He said some words in Cantonese that Paige didn't understand. The children's faces broke into smiles that were matched now by the one on their teacher's face. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out three bright oranges and handed one to each.
"For prosperity and good luck," Alyssa said, answering Paige's unspoken question. "A long and fruitful life."
"Uncle," Ben said as the children left the apartment. "These are the friends I spoke to you about. You remember Alyssa Chen."
"Alyssa." Guy bowed to her. "How is your family? Your grandparents are well?"
"Yes, thank you."
Ben continued the introductions and Mr. Fong greeted each of them with a welcome and a bow. After refusing his offer of refreshments, they sat down together in the living room.
"As I told you on the phone," Ben said, "my friends are seeking information about three pieces of art, two dragons that join together to open a box that we believe once held a flute."
"Yes." Mr. Fong picked up a folder from the table. "I made a copy of the article I found."
At Ben's nod, he handed it to Paige. She opened the folder, sensing that she was about to see something very important. Her instincts were right on the money. The photograph in front of her showed two dragons,