I followed Henley out of the door and to the lobby. Surprisingly Aaron wasn’t there, though he must have been curious about our relations with Carter House.
Henley smoothed out the piece of paper before starting to punch in the phone number. I could hear it first dialing and then ringing as Henley held it up to his ear.
“Carter House Auction Specialists. Hilary speaking.”
“Hilary, this is Henley Beauford.”
“Why hello, Mr. Beauford. Calling about the Tudor jewelry set?” Hilary was as chirpy as usual.
“Yes, I am.”
“Let me patch you in to Tabitha. Please wait on the line.”
Classical music started pouring out of the phone before Henley could respond. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. At least they had chosen good music. Sounded like Beethoven.
“Tabitha speaking.”
“Tabitha? This is Henley Beauford.”
“Mr. Beauford, a pleasure to hear from you so quickly.” Her voice sounded colder over the phone than it did in person.
Henley started pacing the floor in front of me.
“We wanted to call to let you know our experts did authenticate the jewelry set as a Tudor-era, early-1500s artifact. In addition, the Carter House management group also approved a direct sale transaction with a cash portion up front.”
Henley stopped his pacing and finally stood still. “Brilliant. Have you settled on a price?”
“We’re very close to finalizing it. Merely going over some last-minute details. We would be happy to discuss the exact amount when you are available to come in to the office. We would also like to go over some additional paperwork to finalize the sale.”
“Tomorrow, then?” Henley said.
“Would tomorrow at three be suitable for you?”
“Yes, that would be fine.”
“Wonderful. I will have Hilary schedule that. Until then, is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, that will be all.”
“Then thank you. We look forward to your visit tomorrow.”
There was a click, and Henley put down the phone.
“It went well?” Although I’d heard the conversation, I wanted to clarify that he felt the same way as I did.
“Well enough, I believe . . . So far, so good.”
We went back to the room. Things were so much better now that the air had cleared between Henley and me and we had what was hopefully the last meeting with the auction house set up.
Henley took over the bed as usual, so I sat on the floor by the foot of the bed.
I reached under the bed for the backpack. I wasn’t looking for anything specific inside, but sometimes I just liked to hold the clock in my arms. It was strange, but the clock had been through everything with me. It was linked to Miss Hatfield. It was linked to me. I thought I wanted it by my side, but when I reached into the backpack, my hands closed around a smooth glass surface instead. I took out the vial—Richard’s vial.
Rolling it around in my hand, I saw there was still liquid in it. So the time traveling hadn’t made it evaporate . . . if that was what happened to liquids in the time continuum. I didn’t have much experience in that area.
I brought it to eye level and sighed.
It was silly, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw the vial away. I knew the liquid didn’t do anything. It was plain water, as far as its abilities went. It had been created by Richard and the court’s royal alchemist to make people immortal . . . Although if it had worked, it would have made turning Henley immortal a lot easier.
I couldn’t part with it because it was the last thing of Richard’s I had. Henley inhabited his body, but that wasn’t Richard anymore. This was a part of Richard that I held now in my hands. This was a part that Henley couldn’t touch.
“What’s that you’re holding?” Henley looked genuinely curious. He hopped off the bed and came to sit by me on the floor.
“Just a little memento of my past,” I said.
“That’s from Richard, isn’t it?” He said it without judgment.
I didn’t know why I couldn’t tell Henley outright that it was a gift of sorts from Richard. Henley had obviously been there when Richard gave it to me; without a body, Henley was forced to see everything that went on between Richard and me. It hadn’t been fair, but that was how it was.
“Yeah, it is.”
“I’m sorry about him,” he said.
“Me too.” I gripped the vial tighter in my fist.
“W-when you kissed him . . . ,” Henley began. It was the first time Henley had brought this up since he had exploded right after it happened.
It had actually been Richard who had kissed me, but I knew it wouldn’t help if I brought that up.
Richard had thought that we were alone, but Henley had been there, watching as he leaned in and kissed me. I hadn’t not liked it. I hadn’t pushed him away.
I had been confused, but I had known I liked Richard—I loved him, in fact. But what I felt for him was different from what I felt for Henley.
“It’s over,” I said.
“Because he’s dead or because you didn’t love him?” Henley’s voice wasn’t harsh at all. He sounded sad, desperately trying to understand what had happened that day and what had happened to us.
“I loved him. I still do. I don’t think that’ll ever change.”
Henley recoiled but quickly recovered.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just trying to explain this as I see it and as I feel it.” Henley already knew the stark facts of what had happened. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.
“I appreciate you being honest with me.”
“I loved him, but I’m not in love with him. I never was.” I tried to better collect my thoughts. I wanted Henley to understand this side of me, however confusing it was. “He was kind, wonderful, brilliant even. He had this strong . . . almost addictive passion for everything. I loved that. He exerted this draw on me—”
“And you loved him for that too.”
“Yes, I did.”
“He burned bright, but he burned quickly,” Henley said.
“So you understand,” I said.
“In a way, I do. Eliza was my Richard.”
“Now that’s someone who really burned bright.”
Henley clasped my hand. “And she burned quickly.”
I had an image of Eliza fixed in my mind as the brightest star in the night sky, and the first star to die out.
“I don’t think we’re meant to love just once,” Henley said. “I don’t think we’re built like that—to scour the earth for the one person we can be with. But I think every love we feel is different. One isn’t better or more important than another. We need them all to function and live full lives. But ours is the type of love that lasts.”
“It won’t just blow away?” I asked.
“No, it won’t.” Henley sounded sure in his answer. “It’s not that I can’t live without you . . . I can and I have. But it’s that I’ve seen a world without you and I’m choosing to be with you. I don’t want to live without you.”
I squeezed his knee. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you.”
“You deserve far more,” he said. He seemed sure of that too.
NINE
WE WOKE UP late the next morning. I swear I had celery and kidney-bean breath, as that was what I’d had for “dinner” last night, if you could call it that. We had bought enough of each item so we weren’t technically hungry, but it had been a while since we had felt contentedly full. Henley had cereal to go along with his beans. Not the best combination.
I poked him.
He opened one eye, still half asleep. “What was that for?”
“Should we go buy food?” I said. “Real food?”
Henley smirked. “Hungry?”
“Not technically, but not satisfied either.”
“We have money and it seems like a lot, but you know we still have to save up. Ther
e’s no telling what problems we might run into.”
Henley was right. We might need the money if we ever ran into issues.
I turned over. “But we do need to eat . . .”
I sighed and got up, walking toward the food.
I took one bite of the bread. It was horrible, but I had to satisfy my stomach.
I looked back at the bed, expecting to see Henley fast asleep again, but he was up.
Henley was standing there doing absolutely nothing, but he didn’t seem to hear me.
“Are you all right?” I said, going closer to him. “Henley?”
“Sorry. Pardon?”
“Are you all right?” I repeated.
“Yes. Um . . . fine.”
But Henley shuffled his feet. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He crossed and uncrossed his arms.
“What is it?” I asked.
“No, nothing.”
I tried to take what he said as the truth, but I saw him pace a few steps to the left and then turn to his right and do the same thing. He kept stretching his hands out and then balling them up into fists.
“It’s obviously not nothing,” I finally said.
Henley turned to me, and his eyes searched my face. “You’re not going to like this . . .”
“What am I not going to like?” I hated him not spitting it out.
“I need meat,” he said slowly. “I need hot food.”
I froze, looking up at him, and a laugh burst out. That single laugh turned into howls. I couldn’t stand straight anymore, and I bent over, clutching at my sides.
“It’s not that funny,” Henley said, standing over me with his hands planted on his hips. “I’m serious.”
That only got me cackling even more. He waited in that pose until my laughter died down enough for me to speak.
“You . . . you looked so serious,” I said. “I was worried you were going to tell me something absolutely horrible.”
“Your face is red.”
“I know you want hot food, but you were just telling me that we need to continue to save money. We have leftover bread and kidney beans.”
“I don’t want hot food. I need hot food.” Henley’s face was grave. “I can’t eat another meal of cold canned kidney beans. This is a matter of survival. Doesn’t meat sound good? Besides, we can call it a slightly early celebratory lunch—we’re getting the money today.”
I had to agree with him—meat did sound good. Since he’d mentioned it, a plate of chicken was all I could think of. And we were getting the money soon anyway.
“What’s one little meal?” Henley said. “We’ll go to the cheapest place in the area. We could ask Aaron.”
“You want this really badly, don’t you?”
Henley nodded like a bobblehead.
My stomach gurgled. I couldn’t argue.
We made our way directly to the front desk after that. Henley was quick to ring the desk bell.
“Oh it’s you two.” Aaron smiled as he came in. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for meat,” Henley said.
I giggled. “A place that serves meat, he means. A cheap place.”
“If you really want cheap, the cheapest you can get around here is McDonald’s. But I understand if you don’t want that. We also have—”
“That’s the cheapest?” I asked.
“Well, yeah . . .” Aaron looked confused. “You could get chicken nuggets for about three pounds.”
I didn’t know much about McDonald’s, except that they often ran advertisements in New York. I would see posters on bus stops. Miss Hatfield never ordered from there and we never went. But I was sold as soon as Aaron mentioned chicken.
“McDonald’s would be perfect.”
“It’s only three blocks down the street that way.” Aaron waved his arm to his left.
We barely heard the end of his sentence as we dashed toward the door.
I hadn’t realized how much I had missed food served hot and also how much I’d missed meat. I tried to remember the last time I’d had any—was it at the court feast in 1527? No, I did have that hot dog with Henley, but that was so little food.
Henley pointed out the lighted “M” sign and began to jog toward it. I caught up with him in front of the restaurant counter.
“What are you going to get?” he asked me.
“Chicken.”
“Chicken nuggets? What are nuggets? Just little pieces of chicken?”
I was so looking forward to warm food that I couldn’t even take enjoyment out of Henley figuring out chicken nuggets.
“I guess that makes a little sense,” Henley was saying. “Chicken nuggets are little nuggets of chicken. How clever. I’ll get that too. They look good in that photo.”
We stood behind a woman who was ordering until it was our turn to walk up to the counter.
“How may I help you today?” A girl with braces and a red visor tilted her head at us.
“Chicken nuggets, please,” I said.
“The Chicken McNuggets? How many pieces?”
“How much is a good amount for two people?” I asked.
The girl looked bored with my question. “You could get the Chicken McNuggets share box.”
“How much is that?”
“Three pounds, ninety-nine pence,” she said, reciting from memory.
“We’ll get two of those,” Henley said.
I gave him a look but didn’t argue.
“To go or for here?”
“For here,” I said. Why not? The place was mostly empty anyway.
“That’ll be seven pounds and ninety-eight pence.”
Henley pulled out the amount and received a receipt. We followed the woman who had been in front of us in line to wait for our food. She had chosen to stand by the trash can, so we stood on the other side.
The smell of food was thick in the air. I could almost feel the texture of chicken in my mouth. I couldn’t wait.
I grabbed ketchup in the meantime. They came in little pouches like the soy sauce Miss Hatfield used to get with our Chinese takeout.
“I’m excited,” Henley whispered.
“I can see that.”
His face was flushed, and his eyes were glued to the people we could see making french fries in the kitchen.
“Classic burger. No bacon.” A loud voice came onto the intercom, making me inadvertently jump.
I watched as the woman next to us walked up to the counter and grabbed her paper bag of food. Even though it hadn’t been sitting on the counter long, the bag already had grease soaking through the bottom and sides.
“I think we’re next then,” Henley said.
Sure enough, only a few minutes went by before the voice came back on the intercom. “Chicken McNuggets share box.”
Henley was already by the counter and took the tray of food directly from the man who dropped it off from the back kitchen.
We sat down at the first table we saw, though all the tables were empty. I guessed we were eating early compared to most people. I sat by the window, and Henley sat across from me. He was already opening the first box of chicken nuggets.
Henley popped a chicken nugget into his mouth before I could get the ketchup packet open.
“Don’t eat all of them just yet!” I said.
“Heavenly,” Henley said. He took a second nugget. “Your loss if you’re slow.”
I carefully dipped my chicken nugget into the pool of ketchup I had made in the corner of the paper carton. The piece of chicken was hot to the touch.
“This is how you do it,” I said as I took my first bite.
Henley was right, it was heavenly.
“I haven’t had chicken—or really any meat—since . . . since I had my old body!” Henley said between mouthfuls.
I was glad no one was within earshot to hear him. They would have thought he was a lunatic.
“You had that corn dog,” I said.
“That’s sausage. That doesn’t co
unt.”
I had absolutely no idea why that supposedly didn’t count, but I didn’t question his logic.
When was the last time I had had nuggets? Maybe it was with Miss Hatfield in New York. Did I ever have any before then? Before—when I was called Cynthia and it was still 1954 and I was still mortal . . . Before, when I hadn’t yet adopted Miss Hatfield’s name because I hadn’t met her yet. Before she moved into the neighborhood and changed everything.
I could vaguely remember my mother—Cynthia’s mother. Did she pack me chicken nuggets in a lunchbox for school? Did we have chicken nuggets then? Were they invented? I didn’t remember.
What did Cynthia’s mother look like? I scanned my memories and remembered the beautiful pastel dresses she used to wear, but in each memory her face was blank, as if washed over and grayed out. Try as I might, it wasn’t there in my memory anymore. It was frustrating, so I stopped trying. Cynthia wasn’t me anymore.
“Doesn’t it feel good? This warmth with each bite?” Henley went on. “That’s what you miss with a diet of bread and kidney beans.”
“You’re forgetting the cheese and celery,” I teased through a mouthful of chicken.
Henley waved a nugget in my face. “Doesn’t this beat cheese?”
When we had scarfed down the first box of chicken, Henley went to get us water. I watched from my seat as he asked an employee how to use the soda machine. I hadn’t ever used one myself, but apparently there was a button for water.
Henley was beaming when he brought the cups over to the table.
“You look so smug,” I said.
“I’m proud of myself. Those contraptions are no match for me.”
I rolled my eyes and imagined Henley being bested by a soda machine. “Whatever you say . . .”
I don’t think Henley heard me, as he was busy opening the second box of chicken nuggets.
We spent a good hour at McDonald’s. Henley was in better cheer after warm food. I felt happier after satisfying my strange craving for chicken. Soon enough, it was time to head over to the auction house for our meeting.
When Henley and I walked into the tall, imposing building the second time, it wasn’t as tall and imposing as I had remembered. Yes, the green tile floor still made the clicking sound as Henley walked across it, but it felt different, knowing what to expect. Since it was the second time around, we also knew to go directly to the elevator.
The Day Before Forever Page 15