by Kris Tualla
“What do you think I should do?”
She was looking at George, but Sveyn answered her. “I believe it is best to leave this be.”
George shrugged. “You may have to face him in court if you pursue this.”
“Couldn’t I testify on camera from a different location?” Hollis probed. “I saw that in a movie.”
The lawyer chuckled. “I suppose that’s possible. It does reinforce the contention that you were emotionally damaged by Sage’s actions.”
“Then let’s do it.” Hollis heaved a sigh. “As long as I never have to be in a room with him again, I’m willing to pursue this.”
“Oh, Hollis.” Sveyn shook his head. “Why?”
“I may not have a job once the hoard is sorted, logged, and on display,” she replied to the Viking, though still looking at George. “Having something in the bank to fall back on would certainly make life easier.”
“Great.” George stood. “If you have no objections, I’d like to act as your lawyer on the contingency that we win.”
“Thank you, George. I really appreciate that and gladly accept.” Hollis looked up at him. “So how much damage are we talking about?”
“I can’t answer that for certain until forensics digs into his accounts.” George walked toward the door. “We’ll ask for everything he has, and then we’ll offer to take less if he doesn’t fight it.”
Hollis sucked a breath. “And no testifying in court then either?”
George pointed at her, grinning. “Exactly. And since he will have already pled guilty, he can’t say he didn’t do it.”
Hollis slumped in her chair, feeling the weight of Everett’s betrayal starting to lift. “Thank you so much, George.”
He gave her a small Austin-esque bow. “I’m glad I can help you, Hollis.”
*****
Hollis looked at Sveyn once George closed her office door. “Are you angry with me?”
“I am not pleased,” he grumbled. “The man is dangerous. He has been driven mad by his possession of half the icon.”
“He’ll be in prison, Sveyn.”
“For the remainder of his life?” Sveyn challenged. “I do not believe that will be so.”
Hollis felt a small blade of fear slide between her ribs. “I’ll probably be gone from Phoenix by the time he gets out.”
The Viking pointed at her computer. “You will still be there. On the internet.”
“I’ll get a restraining order,” she countered, though the efficacy of those documents had good reason to be doubted. “Maybe I’ll even be married and have a new name.”
Sveyn stiffened, rising to his full six-and-a-half feet. He stared down at her, his blue eyes darkening along with his expression. “Yes. Perhaps you shall.”
Hollis stood slowly. “Sveyn, I didn’t mean anything by that.”
Someone knocked on the door and then cracked it open. “Can I come in?”
“Of course, Stevie.” Hollis dropped back into her chair and pasted a taut smile across her cheeks.
Sveyn glared at her. She could practically feel the waves of his anger washing over her.
Stevie entered her office, her happy expression probably sincere. “George says he’s going to help you go after Everett’s money.”
“I shall leave you to your happy plans,” Sveyn growled. He strode rigidly past Stevie and out Hollis’s office door.
Stevie whirled toward the Viking, her eyes wide. “What was that?”
Hollis’s heart thumped. Negative emotions. Were they making Sveyn visible to others? That could be really good news, in a terrible sort of way.
“What was what?” she asked.
“Didn’t you see it?” Stevie faced her again, her face gone white.”
“It?” Hollis stalled. “What did you see?”
Stevie waved a hand in a circle to her side. “A shadow. Here. Sort of like what was on the video.”
Hollis scrambled for a response but came up with nothing. “I’m not sure…”
Stevie practically ran to Hollis’s desk, apparently recovering some of her composure. “You can tell me, Hollis I won’t think you’re crazy.”
“Why—why would you think I was?” she stammered.
“Lots of people believe in angels.” Stevie leaned on Hollis’s desk. “You even said you had one and he was in the storeroom when you were locked in there.”
Uh, oh.
“When did I say that?” she deflected.
“When we first watched the security videos. Don’t you remember?”
“Um. No,” she lied. “Sorry.”
Stevie shoulders slumped. “Then how do you explain what just happened?”
“I can’t. I didn’t see what you saw.” That part was true.
Stevie straightened, considering Hollis with narrowed eyes. “What did Benton want?”
Good. A change of subject.
Sort of.
“He wants me to cooperate with ghost hunters and other crazies who want to try and discover what was on that video.”
“Cooperate how?”
“He’s going to allow them to come run tests or whatever. On Mondays. In December. After the wing is open.”
“And you’re supposed to be there with them?” Stevie gave Hollis a knowing look. “And what will they find?”
Hollis threw her hands wide and spoke the truth. “I have no freaking idea.”
“Well, count me in.” Stevie wagged a finger in Hollis’s face. “I want to get to the bottom of this, even if you don’t.”
Chapter Four
Tuesday
November 17
Hollis swiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead. The climate-control system in the new Kensington wing wasn’t operational as yet, so no actual objects were being placed in the displays until it was. In the meantime, she and Stevie were busy directing their three interns and helping them get the cases placed properly.
“That’s perfect, Tom.” Hollis retracted her measuring tape. “You guys can take a lunch break.”
Stevie heaved a sigh. “The tracking number says the signage is on the truck and will arrive today.”
Hollis nodded. “Good. We can work on that tomorrow.”
“Then we should be able to get everything in place before Thanksgiving.” Stevie wiped her own brow. “Assuming they get the air up and running.”
Tony Samoa sauntered through the plastic veil, past the large posted The Kensington Collection ~ Opening December 1st sign, and walked up to Hollis. “Here you are, Miss YouTube Sensation.”
“Stop it, Tony,” Stevie chided. “You know Hollis has no control over that.”
He looked around the space as if seeing it for the first time. “I guess if I was younger and had long, curly red hair and blue eyes, I could catch Benton’s attention, too.” Tony’s gaze shifted to Hollis. “Oh. And boobs. I’d need boobs.”
Hollis swung her arm, but Tony leaned back and dodged the palm that was aimed at his cheek. “Watch it. I’ll press charges.”
Sveyn stepped between Hollis and Tony. “He is only jealous. Do not allow him to provoke you.”
“Benton has no interest in me as a woman!” she snapped.
“So you say.” Tony shrugged. “But I hear he plans to work nights with you. In the storeroom. In the dark.”
Stevie shoved Tony backwards with surprising strength for such a petite frame. He stumbled backwards, but caught himself and didn’t fall.
“What the hell?” he barked.
“Shut up, Tony!” Stevie’s eyes flashed. “Or I’ll press charges for sexual harassment. You have no right to talk to Hollis like that!”
“I was only teasing,” he grumbled. “Jeez. Buy a sense of humor, why don’t you?”
Hollis walked away before she said anything else. She was so angry that tears blurred her vision and she almost walked into a display case. She turned a corner so she was out of Tony’s line of sight.
“Bastard,” she whispered. “He’s hated me from the start.”
“Men are territorial, Hollis. You know that.” Sveyn stood in front of her. “He believes you have come in to take his place of importance.”
“I’m temporary!” she shouted. “When will he get that through his thick skull?”
Stevie rounded the corner. “You don’t have to shout. He’s gone.”
Hollis swiped her eyes and pointed a stiff finger at her friend and co-worker. “I don’t care how nice he was to me when he found me that night! If he says one more thing, or gets in my way one more time, I’ll have his balls on a platter!”
“I believe you.” Stevie squeezed Hollis’s arm. “Don’t let him get to you. Do you want me to say something to Miranda?”
“Fight your own battles, Hollis,” Sveyn urged.
“I will!” With a mental slap to her forehead Hollis realized she was answering Sveyn, not Stevie.
Crapsies.
“I mean, I will. If he says anything else.”
Stevie squeezed her arm again. “Let’s go out for lunch. Get away from the stress for an hour.”
Hollis looked at Stevie. “That’s a great idea.”
“Greek?”
“Even better.” Hollis smiled tenuously at the petite blonde. “Thank you. I’m afraid this whole situation is making me crazy.”
“It would make anyone crazy,” Stevie said. “Let’s go before someone stops us.”
*****
Miranda and Benton each carried a box of labels when they visited the wing toward the end of the day. Hollis opened the boxes and she and Stevie placed the signs around the wing on the cases which they were intended for. Tom the intern set the wall-mounted signs against their intended walls.
“This looks very good, Hollis,” Benton approved. “I wasn’t certain about the layout when Miranda showed it to me, but she was adamant that it would flow naturally. And it does.”
Hollis felt her cheeks warming at his praise. She always found it hard to accept compliments, even when they were deserved. “Thank you, sir.”
Stevie grinned at their bosses. “I particularly love how the two collections, American and European, circle around and are joined in the middle by their shared history.”
“Yes. That’s impressive.” Benton faced Hollis. “I assume the Blessing’s case will be the center focal point, since it’s the oldest object in the collection?”
She nodded and pointed to the gap in displays. “It’ll go there. The bullet-proof case should be delivered on Monday.”
“Excellent.”
Hollis glanced at Miranda, and back at Benton. “Is there any word on the plea agreement?”
Sveyn leaned down and murmured in her ear. “In other words, will you have both halves of that vile thing to display? God willing, the answer is no.”
Hollis wished she could elbow the Viking in the ribs, not just jerk her arm backwards and through his torso.
“The final negotiations were completed yesterday, and the agreement will go before the judge tomorrow.” Benton flashed a confident grin. “We’ll receive what we asked for.”
Sveyn swore softly.
“That’s good news, sir.” Hollis stepped away from the fuming Viking and looked around the space, evaluating what the director could see. “Do you have any other questions?”
*****
“You’ve done well, Hollis. Mr. Benton was very pleased.” Miranda ordered another congratulatory margarita.
“I’m so relieved.” Hollis reached for a chip and dipped it in the spicy salsa. “Because it’s too late to change anything now.”
“Two weeks from today with a holiday in between,” Stevie pointed out once again.
“And a formal Regency tea to host, don’t forget.” Miranda looked at Hollis. “Do you have your dress?”
“Not yet. I haven’t had time to go to the shop and try any on.” And if I postpone long enough, maybe I won’t have to.
Stevie pointed a tortilla chip at her. “Don’t think you can just not go get a dress and then get out of this.”
Sveyn chuckled. “She has figured out your obvious ploy.”
Hollis wrinkled her nose.
“Agreed.” Miranda gave Hollis a boss-like look. “Go tomorrow during work.”
“I don’t have—”
“Yes. You do.”
Hollis’s shoulder fell. “How do you know what I was going to say?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Miranda accepted her second margarita and handed the waitress her empty glass. “I want you to be there, and as your superior I have the right to ask you.”
“And don’t call in sick, either,” Stevie said. “Because I’ll come to your condo and drag you there if I need to.”
Damn.
There went that plan.
“Fine. I’ll go tomorrow,” Hollis conceded, forestalling Stevie’s anticipated suggestion with, “Alone.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Stevie grumbled.
Hollis smiled puckishly. “The fun is in surprising you when you see me.”
“Hmph.” Stevie stuffed a salsa-laden chip into her mouth.
“So what are your Thanksgiving plans?” Miranda asked.
Stevie’s mood brightened immediately. “I’m going to Las Vegas with George. We’re spending Thanksgiving with his brother’s family.”
Hollis remembered the surprising story. “The one with the tattoo parlor who makes more money than George?”
Stevie giggled. “That’s the one.”
Miranda’s skeptical expression spoke volumes. “A tattoo artist makes more money than a lawyer?”
“Hey, it’s Vegas.” Stevie grinned. “Lots of tattoos to do—and lots more to fix.”
Miranda turned her attention to Hollis. “What about you?”
“I couldn’t take the time off to fly to Milwaukee, obviously, so I’ll buy a pre-made dinner and enjoy it in front of the TV.”
“No, no, no,” Miranda objected.
“It’s fine, Miranda. I love watching the Macy’s parade and the dog show,” Hollis insisted. “And after that I’ll watch Miracle on 34th Street—”
“The original in black-and-white?” Stevie interrupted.
“Of course.” Hollis was a historian, after all. “And maybe launch the Christmas season with a little Love Actually.”
Miranda cocked one brow. “All by yourself?”
Hollis’s gaze flicked briefly up at Sveyn. He had started standing beside whoever she was speaking to once she realized people noticed when she looked to her side. “I really don’t mind. I don’t feel lonely if that’s what you mean.”
Stevie was watching her a bit too closely. “Is he here?”
Hollis recoiled. “What?”
“Your guardian angel.” Stevie’s head swiveled from side to side. “Is he here.”
Miranda looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
Stevie expression turned smug. “I saw him today.”
“You saw him?” Miranda’s eyes rounded.
“You did not,” Hollis huffed.
“Well I saw something. You know I did.”
Hollis flipped a hand at Stevie. “You’re imagining things, my friend.”
“We’ll see about that.” Stevie turned to Miranda. “I’m assisting Hollis when all those paranormal guys come snooping around.”
“She has volunteered to be there,” Hollis clarified. “She has not been assigned to be there.”
Miranda looked at her still-full margarita. “How many of these have I had?”
“That’s only your second,” Hollis answered. “And yes, this conversation has made a sudden left turn into crazy land.” She decided to take the hit, rather than continue down this precarious path. “We were talking about Thanksgiving.”
“Right!” Miranda smiled. “You will spend the day at my house.” She put up a hand. “And before you say no, I host an annual ‘Stragglers’ Pot Luck’ for any and all of my friends who find themselves alone for the holiday.”
Hollis felt a little pitied and found the i
dea embarrassing. “That’s really sweet, but—”
“The only rule is that whatever you bring must be homemade,” Miranda continued, ignoring Hollis. “Absolutely nothing made by an institution is allowed.”
“But I don’t—”
“Don’t be silly.” Miranda gave her the same hand flip that Hollis gave Stevie. “Everyone can cook something.”
Hollis paused, wondering if Miranda had already anticipated her next objection; her boss seemed clairvoyant at the moment. “I don’t—”
“Know anyone? Neither did the others the first year.” Miranda beamed at her. “Now we’re like family. Only more fun. No lecherous uncles or snotty little cousins.”
“Give it up, Hollis. She’s a steamroller.” Stevie lifted her beer. “Give in before she flattens you.”
“Good. That’s settled.” Miranda sipped her drink. “So, what will you bring?”
Chapter Five
Wednesday
November 18
“No, Mom. I’m sorry.” Hollis tapped her forefinger on her desktop. “Even if everything for the opening was finished—and it’s not—there aren’t any flights available for next week.”
Even from eighteen hundred miles away, her mother’s disappointment slammed Hollis with guilt. Not that she couldn’t go, but because she didn’t want to.
Her live-in boyfriend of a decade was also in Milwaukee, along with the woman he married only four months after breaking up with her. Hollis wasn’t interested in running into him while hanging out with any of their mutual friends.
“What will you do, Hollis?”
“My boss Miranda is hosting dinner.”
Her mother was silent.
“Oh, and did I tell you about the Jane Austin Tea on that Sunday?” Hollis diverted the conversation. “After we found that signed copy of Mansfield Park in the collection, Miranda invited JASNA members to the museum for a pre-opening showing of the book.”
Still nothing.
“I have to wear a dress.”
“What kind of dress?”
That did it. Hollis told her mother all about Stevie and George and the historically accurate clothing and never once mentioned the abduction or the rescue or the icon. She may be thirty years old, but in her mother’s eyes she was still a single girl who needed her parents’ protection.