She shot him a look, then turned to dunk the plate in clean water. "He's still brilliant, just not as focused as he used to be. He's working on prime-number theory at the moment. It would be a great kindness if you would consult with him a bit. It would...it would make him happy."

"Prime-number theory? It sounds as if you speak with some familiarity."

She shrugged and washed a cup. "Papa taught me what he could, and I understand a fair amount of mathematics. But I'm no theoretical mathematician. I haven't the patience for it or the singular turn of mind."

He couldn't help but laugh. "Is that what it is? My family calls it drifting off and not paying attention."

"But you are paying attention, just not to them."

She smiled, and he smiled back.

His chest tightened, nerve endings humming with sudden awareness. She looked so lovely, even in a faded brown cotton dress with her hair pinned haphazardly around her face. If he let himself, he could drown in her whiskey-colored eyes, die for a taste of her sweet, strawberry pink lips...