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“My mum said I should get you a necklace,” Newt began, placing the long, velvet case into Anathema’s hands.
She flinched.
He’d been picking her brains about her tastes for the past several weeks, ever since finding out she had a birthday coming up. Anathema suspected he’d been trying to be surreptitious about the questioning, but then again her boyfriend’s particular brand of subtlety was approximately as subtle as a flock of ducks dancing the gavotte in the middle of Berkeley Square.
But… a necklace, of all things?
She grit her teeth, bracing for the disappointment and frustration of having to try to be appreciative of such an utterly useless gift. From pearls to so-called “protective” amulets, necklaces were some of the most impractical things Anathema had ever encountered… in a world that was already maddeningly impractical much of the time.
And now she was getting one for her birthday? She really had thought Newt knew her better than this. Mrs. Pulsifer seemed nice, but they’d only met a couple of times.
Stifling her sigh, Anathema opened the velvet lid, prepared for the worst…
And froze, and stared, heart leaping and eyes shining, at the glittering and completely unexpected item that lay within.
“So if I got it wrong,” Newt continued, “it’s completely my fault. But, well, I just thought you might like this better. Happy birthday.”
She reached into the case and touched it, feeling the cool metal against her skin. Picked it up; turned it over and over in her hands.
A brand new bread knife: slim and polished and oh, so very practical. The well-serrated edge proved to be perfectly sharpened when she ran her finger delicately along the blade.
“I love it,” Anathema said, and kissed him. “And I love you. You definitely got it right.”