The Signature of All Things

teeth.”
    “A lucky inheritance.”
    “Did my sister have any other children, apart from you?”
    “She had one other daughter—adopted. That is my sister Prudence, who now operates a school from within my father’s old estate.”
    “Adopted,” he said neutrally.
    “My mother was not blessed with fecundity,” Alma elaborated.
    “What of you?” he asked. “Do you have children?”
    “I, like my mother, was also not blessed with fecundity,” Alma said. This understated the situation considerably, but at least it answered the question.
    “A husband?” he asked.
    “Deceased, I’m afraid.”
    Uncle Dees nodded, but did not offer condolence. This amused Alma; her mother would have responded the same way. Facts are facts. Death is death.
    “And you, sir?” she ventured. “Is there a Mrs. van Devender?”
    “Dead, you know.”
    She nodded, exactly as he had nodded. It was a bit perverse, but she was enjoying everything about this frank, blunt, desultory conversation. With no sense of when or where it all might end, or whether her destiny was or was not meant to intertwine with the destiny of this old man, she felt she was on familiar territory here—Dutch territory, van Devender territory. She had not felt so at home in ages.
    “How long do you intend to stay in Amsterdam?” Dees asked.
    “Indefinitely,” Alma said.
    This took him aback. “If you’ve come seeking charity,” he said, “we have nothing to offer.”
    She smiled. Oh, Beatrix, she thought, how I have missed you these many years.
    “I am not in need of charity,” she said. “My father left me well provided for.”
    “Then what are your intentions for your stay in Amsterdam?” he asked, with undisguised wariness.
    “I would like to work here, at the Hortus Botanicus.”
    Now he looked genuinely alarmed. “Dear heavens!” he said. “In what possible capacity?”
    “As a botanist. Specifically, as a bryologist.”
    “A bryologist ? But what on earth do you know about mosses?”
    Here Alma could not help but laugh. It was a marvelous thing, to laugh. She could not think of the last time she had laughed. She laughed so hard, she had to put her face in her hands for a spell, in order to hide her hilarity. This spectacle only seemed to unnerve her poor old uncle more. She was not helping her own cause.
    Why had she thought her modest reputation might have preceded her? Oh, foolish pride!
    Once Alma had contained herself, she wiped her eyes and smiled at him. “I know I have taken you by surprise, Uncle Dees,” she said, falling naturally into a warmer and more familiar tone. “Please forgive me. I wish you to understand that I am a woman of independent means, who does not come here to disrupt your life in any manner. However, it is also the case that I am possessed of certain abilities—both as a scholar and as a taxonomist—which might be of use to an institution such as yours. I can say without reservation that it would bring me the greatest pleasure and contentment to spend the rest of my working life here, giving my time and energies to an institution that has figured so prominently both in the history of botany, and in the history of my own family.”
    With this, she took the brown-wrapped parcel from under her arm and set it on the edge of his table.
    “I will not ask you to take my word for my abilities, Uncle,” she said. “This package contains a theory I have recently brought forth, based upon research I have conducted over the past thirty years of my life. Some of the ideas may strike you as rather bold, but I ask only that you read it with an open mind—and, needless to say, that you keep its findings to yourself. Even if you don’t agree with my conclusions, I think you will get a sense of my scientific aptitude. I ask you to treat this document with respect, for it is all that I have and all that I am.”
    He made no commitment.
    “You do read English, I assume?” she asked.
    He raised one white eyebrow, as though to say, Honestly, woman—show some respect .
    Before Alma passed the small package to her uncle, she reached for a pencil on his desk and asked, “May I?”
    He nodded, and she wrote something on the outside of the parcel.
    “This is the name and address of the hotel where I am currently staying, near the port. Take your time in reading this document, and let me know if you would like to speak to me again. If I have heard no word from you within a week, I shall return here, collect my