“We’ll find him.” Philippe hugged me close. “We just don’t want Otto to find us in the process, so don’t draw any attention to yourself.”
“Right. Of course,” I clasped my hands together against the cold and tried to prepare myself. It might be several days before I saw Blake or my father or grandfather. Blake was probably at one of the hospitals.
“Let’s get back to the hotel and get cleaned up. I’ll ask where we can get clothes for the morning—”
A squeaky door opened behind us and I turned to see an older man with graying blond hair, a plaid jacket and short brimmed newsboy cap. When I realized he was leaving through the service door that led to the gallery, I took off in what felt like slow motion.
The man’s eyes widened as if he thought I might try to take him out. He inhaled against the open door and I passed him. At least I thought I might until his hands grabbed me around the waist. I dragged him several feet down the hall before he stopped me.
“Oh, no ya don’t, miss, they’re closed now. Ya have to come back tomorrow.” His Irish accent was strong. So was he for a man his age, I thought distractedly, and worked to get his hands off of me.
“I just have to—John Montgomery!” I yelled and I tore from the man’s grasp again. “Campbell!” I made it several more steps before he caught me again.
“Miss, I told ya—” He struggled for a firm hold on my arm.
“John!”
“Sorry,” Philippe said to the man when he appeared in the darkened hallway, though he seemed unsure of what to apologize for next. “Sorry.” He let his arms flap by his side.
“Does she belong to you?” The man breathlessly wrestled my flailing arm.
“Yes.” Philippe walked toward me. “Sorry, she knows the owners and thought they might be in at this hour.” He glared at me and took possession of me from the man in the thick, plaid jacket.
“I’m under strict orders to keep all people out after hours when they’re here.” The man nodded toward the gallery. “You can’t be too careful with folks nowadays.”
“When who’s here?” Philippe asked, his head cocked sideways.
The man stopped abruptly, his eyes bouncing once between Philippe and me.
“Run!” Philippe shoved me toward the open gallery and he tackled the man against the wall and held him there.
“John!” I called for my grandfather and ran through the hidden areas of the blackened office space.
The sounds of struggle carried through the area, and I figured as long as they continued I had time to keep searching. I scrambled through the two small rooms in the rear corner, opened doors and flicked on lights, but only empty offices revealed themselves. I turned the last corner and found myself where I started, with Philippe and the man in plaid having taken to fisticuffs.
“Damn it!” There was nowhere left to search. My only hope was to leave the way I came and escape to the hotel. Maybe Philippe could get away as soon as he knew I was free. Hopefully, the police would not be called.
No, this can’t be right.
There had to be an area for storage, or maybe a vault. I turned and searched along the wall of the small, pitch-black alcove for another doorway. There was nothing, until I found the outline of a door and, finally, the small round doorknob. I took one step into the dark and fell. Head first, down into an abyss of narrow walls and hard, wooden stair edges. The opposite wall at the end of the flight stopped me.
When I finally opened my squinted eyes I stared across a hallway and into a small kitchen that held the great love of more than just one of my lives. Blake sat on a wooden stool, cleanly shaven and leaning over a light wood table where a map was laid before him.
He frowned at me with his head cocked in the classic RCA dog pose, and tried to figure out this strange muddy woman who dropped from above. I moved my long, straggling hair from across my face.
Blake jumped up and the wooden stool clattered on the cement floor. He lifted me slowly from my crunched, end-of-the-trail position and held me fast. The natural cologne of his skin reached my heart and the tears of two lifetimes fell down my face. I hadn’t lost him. We did beat Otto, and through it all we were still together.
He pushed me at arm’s length and grasped my shoulders, as if he needed to prove that I was really there. He tucked a lock of my unruly hair behind my ear, examined me from tip to toe, and shook his head. Both of our faces streamed with tears.
“You’re really here,” he said.
“You’re okay? What about your arm? Weren’t you in the hospital?” I asked.
His mouth rushed to mine. It felt like our first kiss, our last kiss, and the only one that ever mattered.
Chapter 57
The four of us stood near the service door of Montgomery & Associates, my hand fastened tight to Blake’s. One lone globe sconce on the wall of the hallway to light the night.
“It’s my fault, Alfred. I ought to have let you know that we were expecting guests. I apologize.” Blake said.
“Well, see that ya remember next time.” The man in plaid jutted his chin out, his eyes darkened to a shade of meanness. “I have strict orders.” He pressed a handkerchief to his bloodied nose and eyed Philippe, who came out of the altercation with a bruised cheek and what would probably turn into a black eye.
“I understand.” Blake was firm, and Philippe ushered Alfred out.
Blake took my face in his hands, his fingertips grazed the sore places that Otto left behind and I flinched. “What happened?”
“Doesn't matter now. How is your arm?” I asked.
“It’s better. Sore, but healing. No fever anymore. Painkillers suck in 1920.” He cocked a sideways grin. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Neither can I,” the familiar male voice said. Though I hadn't heard that voice in many years, its unique timbre awakened the memories of my heart and little girl tears welled up in my eyes. I peered over Blake’s shoulder, my mouth ajar.
“Daddy,” I whispered when I saw his face. I walked toward him at a turtle's pace then hugged him tight, my hand brushing across the gold chain I’d always known him to wear. He stood back, shell-shocked to see me after twenty-five long years.
“Addie?” he questioned.
“It’s me,” I said and swiped the tears from my cheeks. His voice was exactly the same as I’d remembered it. I wished for Alexa, Isabella, and Grace to hear it, too.
His chestnut-colored hair was a much shorter style and streaked with gray at the temples. I reached up to touch it and he grabbed my hand, kissed it, and held it to his heart.
“My princess, you’re really here.” He laughed and his eyes filled with tears.
“Who’s here?” said the tall, gray-haired man. He stamped the snowy wet off of his shoes. He was debonair and aloof, and barely noticed his surroundings, but the woman who clung to his arm was smitten. She giggled and swiveled her hips, all the while through long, fluttery lashes.
“Addie-belle.” His world stopped when his eyes finally caught me.
“Who is she?” the brightly blond woman accused.
“Addie-belle!” My grandfather’s laughter roared, his voice boomed, and he scooped me off my feet in a giant bear of a hug.
“Blake said he was afraid you’d do such a thing.” He kissed my right cheek five times before he set me down and spread my arms. “Look at you. Obviously, you take after our side of the family.” He glanced back at my father. “Because you’re just gorgeous and…muddy.”
“Oh. Well.” I crossed my arms over my time-traveled dress. “It was something of a bumpy ride on the way over.” I glanced at Philippe, who stood off to the side.
“Grandpa, Daddy, this is Philippe. He played a big part in getting us here.”
“Well, it was more of a team effort, I think,” Philippe said. His eye was starting to swell shut.
My grandfather walked over and shook Philippe’s hand.
“You’re Otto’s boy?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” Phi
lippe said.
“Take after your mother, I see,” my grandfather said, and he examined Philippe’s face. “In more ways than one I would suspect.”
“Yes,” Philippe said, and seemed to take that as a compliment.
“Thank you, son, for helping to get her here safely,” my father said with a vigorous handshake.
“If it weren’t for her, we wouldn’t be here.” Philippe’s dapper smile was now crooked, the result of a swelling cheek. My grandfather’s pat to Philippe's back was a zealous and muted wallop against his thick jacket.
My grandfather strolled over to me, an admiring gleam in his eye. “Little Addie-belle-a-rina always did have all the talent in the family. Not that any of the women in our clan would give her credit for it, though.”
The blond woman cleared her throat and my grandfather raised his finger to me, his signature Montgomery blues fully lit from within, his face animated and lively. “Just a quick minute.”
“This is my granddaughter,” he said to the woman, and she mouthed an “Oh” in return. “Why don’t you scoot your pretty self back to the hotel and I’ll be there shortly. I need a few minutes with her.”
She nodded, giggled, and pranced on her way. He patted her on the bottom and shooed her out the door.
My grandfather walked in to the room and stood between Blake and my father. I clasped my hands at my chest.
I was finally in the same room with the three great loves of my life.
Chapter 58
“There’s not a red cord in place anymore, but I think I could get all of us back. Though Otto booby-trapped the path, we managed to get around it,” I said.
I pushed a lock of my still-messy hair behind my ear, dabbed a baking soda mixture on my wasp stings, and launched into great detail about our harrowing journey. “So, Wentworth’s atelier is now on a little side street, not far from the Met.”
“Then we should leave first thing in the morning, so we don’t lose access to the painting,” my father said. “I think you should have some rest first, sweetheart.”
“Agreed,” my grandfather said. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“I checked us into The Plaza across the street. That’s how Addie saw your sign,” Philippe said with a makeshift bag of ice on his eye.
“I knew it had to be yours,” I said.
My father reached out and squeezed my hand. “I’m so grateful you saw it, Addie. We own the townhome now if you’d rather stay there tonight.”
“You own the townhome already?” I asked.
“We had to buy it,” my grandfather said. “Getting in and out of there when it was a bed and breakfast was too hard, and we had to have access to the book to communicate with Grace and Isabella.
“And Ellen,” I said with a nod to the stack of ribbon-clad letters that he’d placed next to him on the table.
“You know about Ellen?”
“And Nathan.”
My grandfather swallowed visibly. “I suppose that was inevitable with the two of you working together.”
“Who’s Nathan?” Blake asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “That reminds me,” I said to my father and grandfather. “I had a dream a few months back. A vision. The two of you were in it, it seemed so real. Like you were trying to send me a message. Were you?”
My grandfather and father exchanged a glance, then looked back at me. “Grace wrote to us that you were working with Otto. We wanted to see if we could warn you about him and what we thought he was up to,” my father said. “We stood just outside the front door of the townhouse and focused together on getting that message to you.”
“It worked,” I said. “I don’t know how, but it worked.”
The broken icicles my father had gathered shifted against each other in Philippe’s pseudo-ice pack, which was really my father’s white handkerchief, insulated with some plastic wrap.
“Y’all aware that Carolena and Otto are here?” I asked.
Three of the four men nodded.
Blake grimaced.
“Without her, we wouldn’t be alive,” I said and squeezed Blake’s hand.
“Carolena has been very good to me throughout my life,” Philippe said. “She’s watched out for me and protected me from Otto wherever she could. Though I’ve tried, I don’t think I could ever fully repay her for the love and kindness she’s given to me.” Philippe lowered the batch of ice from his face. The combination of his physical brawn and emotional sensitivity was a beautiful mix, and I understood Carolena’s need to protect him.
“I’ll do whatever you need to help find her and return her to the present.” Philippe placed his hand on Blake’s shoulder.
Blake’s expression warmed and he hugged Philippe.
“Thanks, man,” Blake said with two hearty back slaps.
“You have our support as well, whatever you need,” my father said. His old smile had returned, the one that wasn’t evident in the photographs they’d sent through the books. “Grace wrote and told us you’re family now. So, if it wasn’t already, that makes it official.”
We all laughed in symphony at my father’s statement. Grace did set the rules.
“Absolutely,” my grandfather said. “Anything for you and Carolena.”
“Thank you. Your support means a lot, but you’ve waited a long time to get home. I don’t want to get in the way of that,” Blake said and turned to me. “And I have to talk with Addie about next steps. My home is where she is.”
I sighed without any sense of conflict. “It sounds to me as though these two men have already made their decisions. For me, my home is wherever you are,” I said. “I understand if we need to stay and find Carolena. She’s your mother.”
Blake held my face in his hands and kissed me. “Thank you.”
“We’ll have to make arrangements for one of us to keep an eye on the art. Wentworth moves it every now and then, and we don’t want to lose track of it.”
“Campbell and I have several men working for us. We can post them outside of his atelier in shifts to make sure we don’t lose it,” my grandfather said.
“And what about Otto?” I asked. “We can’t leave him in the past. He could completely destroy the future.”
Blake, my father, and grandfather studied one another. Transporting a man as dangerous as Otto from past to present was even more difficult than it sounded.
“We’ll have to devise a plan,” my father said. He always was the planner, easily his mother’s son. He reached across the table and I took his offered hand. It was cool as his hands always were in winter weather, but soft to the touch as though they’d been well cared for.
I nodded. “Yes, we’ll need some time to sort it out.”
My father squeezed my hand and a strength and solidity returned to me that had been missing for over twenty years. I clasped his hand in return and my eyes clouded with tears.
“This is wonderful, thank you,” Blake said. “Thank you for understanding.”
I ran a hand across his shorter hair. “This is family. It’s what we do. Tristan.”
Blake’s breath caught on his inhale and his eyes widened with shock.
My grandfather’s brilliant laughter rumbled like an explosion against every wall of the small room. “Never keep a secret from our Addie, my friend. She’ll find you out.”
Blake shook his head and smiled with pride. “So I’m learning,” he said with another kiss. “Why don’t we sleep on it? We’ll discuss our decisions in the morning over an early breakfast.”
“Good idea, son,” my father said.
My heart swelled with joy at the sound of my father calling Blake “son.”
“Why don’t you stay with us at the town home, Philippe, and let Blake and Addie have The Plaza?” my grandfather said.
“We have separate rooms,” Philippe said.
“I’ll be with Addie,” Blake said. He raised our joined hands to his lips and kissed one of my fingers.
My father cleared hi
s throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
I snickered and stifled a smile. Some part of me was still ten is his mind.
Our wooden stools screeched against the cement floor when we all pushed away from the small table. We agreed to meet at eight the next morning.
We stepped outside into the frigid, quiet dark of the night. Traffic had died down significantly, though you could still hear the distant sounds of the party that carried on inside the ballroom of The Plaza.
I felt a little lost without my cellphone, I wouldn’t be able to text anyone to let them know I was running late, or early, for that matter. I couldn’t call them to find out where they were if they didn’t show up on time, and I couldn’t email them late tonight and ask questions about our plans.
It was all rather freeing.
“Wait for me, Campbell. I need to check in with Mary before we leave. I also want to see if she can loan Addie some clothes. She’s a real fashion plate and I think you two are about the same size,” my grandfather said, and glanced at my dress.
The idea of me being the same size as my grandfather’s newest lover creeped me out.
My father stood next to a shiny black Ford Model T with the door open and one foot inside. “Well, I’ll just walk with you. No sense in standing out here in the cold.” He gave the door a solid slam then raised his collar against the wind. “Plus, it would give me a few more minutes with my princess.” He wrapped his arm around me and squeezed me three times, his version of the triple pat.
The five of us crossed Fifth Avenue, safely this time. My father and I held our arms snugly around each other while Blake and I held hands. My grandfather led the way in animated regale of his first days in the past, and Philippe kept pace each step of the way.
When we entered the lobby my grandfather flagged a young photographer who was on his way out. “I say, young man, take our picture, would you?” My grandfather leaned forward with paper money in his outstretched hand.
The boy pocketed the money and smiled happily. We arranged ourselves together for the photo. The flash was blinding and it took several seconds before I could see anything again.
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