by Kris Tualla
“No.” Hollis sniffed wetly. “Apparently the norm is a man who wastes ten years of my life, dumps me, and marries someone else four months later.”
Miranda nodded sympathetically. “Matt was clearly an ass.”
Though her boss was trying to be helpful, Miranda’s evaluation of Hollis’s live-in boyfriend ricocheted back and shot Hollis in the chest.
“And that makes me the bigger fool for hanging on so long, waiting and hoping for something that was never going to happen!”
Another wave of tears swamped her. Hollis was on a steep downhill roll. “And then, when my knight does show up, he ends up being nothing more than a damned smudge on a video tape!”
“Hollis—”
She jumped to her feet. “I need a minute.”
Managing not to collide with any tables or chairs in spite of her tear-blurred vision, Hollis hurried out of the Pavilion and toward her office with its solid, lockable door.
Sunday
November 29
Hollis straightened her shoulders and walked into the Glass Pavilion. Dressed in the yellow gown, she did her hair up in a loose bun the way Sveyn imagined it in her dream. To complete the stark Regency look, she applied a light coat of mascara and pale lip gloss—though normally she just added a touch of eyeshadow to that duo only when she wanted to look dressy.
“You are stunning, my love,” Sveyn purred. “You look perfect in every way.”
Hollis tucked the scarf deeper into her cleavage. “I hope I pass muster with the JASNA people.”
“If you do not, then they are the mistaken ones,” he assured her.
“Hollis!” Stevie’s excited voice crossed the glass-enclosed space. “Look at you!”
A beaming Stevie wove between the tables and chairs with George in tow. “That dress is gorgeous!”
Hollis laughed. “Me? Look at George!”
The lawyer did a slow turn followed by a courtly bow once the couple reached her. “I assure you, Miss McKenna, that this is no mere costume.”
“No it’s not, I can see that.” Hollis smiled. “Are you Mister Darcy or Mister Knightly?”
George leaned forward and gave her a conspiratorial grin. “I am whomever the lady requires me to be.”
“Isn’t he fantastic, Hollis?” Stevie gushed. “He’s so good at every part of this.”
Sveyn spoke in her ear. “He is. She’s right. That ensemble is perfectly tailored.”
Hollis’s gaze swept the enclosure, evaluating the progress of the set-up. The caterers seemed to have everything well in hand and she relaxed a little. “Are you happy with everything?”
“Yes, thank you.” Stevie looked over her shoulder. “Everything turned out just like I hoped it would.”
Hollis was pleased too, if she was honest. “I’m glad. So how was your Thanksgiving?”
“Stevie was an even bigger hit than my grandmother’s pecan pie recipe.” George smiled at Stevie. “Though I shouldn’t have expected less.”
The blonde’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, stop.”
Miranda entered the pavilion wearing a burgundy dress which was perfect for her dark hair and eyes. “Hollis, you look absolutely fantastic.”
Hollis raised her brow. “If you didn’t sound so surprised, I’d take that as a compliment.”
Mr. Benton strode into the room and gave her a very obvious once-over. Then he nodded, looking pleased. “Ms. McKenna, will you come with me?”
“Yes, sir.” She glanced at Miranda and Stevie, both who looked as puzzled as she felt.
With Sveyn at her side, she followed the director out of the pavilion and toward the new wing. A hum of voices behind the plastic made her wary.
What was Benton up to? Hollis pasted on a smile as she entered and faced a quartet of cameras and reporters.
Crap on a stick. Really?
“Here she is once again, ladies and gentlemen,” Benton effused. “Our collections manager for the Kensington Collection.”
Hollis clasped her hands in front of her and waited for the barrage of questions.
“How did it feel to discover a signed Jane Austin novel?”
“How did you authenticate it?”
“Has the Jane Austin Society concurred that it is real?”
“Did you find any other Austin memorabilia?”
Luckily, Hollis was prepared to talk about all of those things in her keynote. The answers ticked off as if she had known this press opportunity was going to happen.
She’d make a Benton doll later and stick fat pins in it. Lots of them.
“What about the icon with the curse?” one of the reporters asked suddenly. He had a national logo on his microphone, not one touting a local station.
“I’m sorry, but I do have an event about to start,” Hollis deflected.
Benton stepped forward. “Over this way.” As he led the crews toward the case he said, “We have the two halves of the Blessing of the Gods in a bullet-proof acrylic case with a double lock. It requires both a combination and a key to open it.”
When she looked into the case, Hollis’s pulse surged. She felt the blood drain from her face.
“Oh my God,” Sveyn murmured. “The damned things moved again.”
“That’s impossible,” Hollis replied.
One of the reporters whirled around and stuck his microphone in her face. “What’s impossible?”
Think. Fast. “I thought I heard someone ask if it was possible to break the case.”
“And of course, it’s not,” Benton boomed.
“Why take such extreme precautions?”
Hollis stepped in front of the case, blocking the reporters’ view. “Because there are crazy people in this world who believe the myth, and they will go to extreme lengths to get their hands on these pieces.”
“Weren’t you kidnapped last month by one of those crazies?”
Hollis felt her composure precariously near to breaking. “If that’s all, I’ll be returning to our tea. The Jane Austin Society is why I am here today.”
Hollis didn’t wait for permission from Benton, but lifted her skirt and walked as quickly as she could from the wing. She slowed her pace once she neared the Glass Pavilion, needing to calm herself before facing the crowd that was streaming into the building.
“Only three or four inches separated them, Hollis.”
Hollis nodded, but didn’t look at the Viking. “I know. I saw.”
“You cannot allow them to join.”
She shot him an angry look. “There is nothing I can do about it right now!”
“Before you leave this evening.” Sveyn’s expression shifted to fear. “Will you move them again? For your own sake?”
Hollis’s brow wrinkled. “My sake?”
“You are the owner. This is what the pieces believe.”
Hollis scoffed. “You’re the crazy one.”
Before he could respond, she darted into the Glass Pavilion and joined the Regency gathering.
*****
Her speech was very well received—and easily delivered thanks to her impromptu rehearsal. Benton had his own speech, of course. Miranda did little more than introduce Hollis to the attendees.
The tea was drawing to a close when George approached the head table where Stevie had decided to sit after all. “May I say something to everyone?”
Hollis looked at the other museum employees. “He is a member of JASNA.”
Benton was obviously in a good mood, having had his day with the cameras. “I have no objection.”
“Thank you.” George took the wireless microphone from its stand. Hollis noticed his hand was shaking.
He straightened his jacket and cleared his throat before he began. “Hello everyone. First of all, I would like to thank the Arizona History and Cultural Center for providing us with this generous opportunity. I don’t know that any of us would be able to hold one of Jane’s signed books if they had not invited us to do so.”
A round of gloved applause swelled in th
e glass enclosure.
“Secondly, Jane Austin wrote about romance. Chance meetings or planned assignations, it made no difference. She made certain that love bloomed before the last page.”
Heads bobbed around the room. The attendees smiled.
“And thirdly, no JASNA gathering would be complete without a little romance of its own.” George turned around and held out his hand. A red splotch formed on each cheek of his otherwise pale face. “Miss Phillips, will you join me?”
Looking stunned, Stevie rose to her feet and walked around the end of the head table. “What are you doing, George?”
“I know what he’s doing,” Sveyn whispered.
Hollis nodded.
Me, too.
When Stevie reached him, George took her hand and bent down on one knee. A delighted gasp shivered through the audience. Stevie’s eyes rounded and she covered her mouth with her free silk-gloved hand.
Hollis could no longer see George’s face, but she heard the tremor in his voice. She thought that being a trial lawyer he would have more confidence.
I guess love can fell the mightiest men.
“Miss Stevie Phillips, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Stevie’s eyes sparkled with happy tears. “Yes. Oh, yes!”
George set the microphone down before he unbuttoned the glove on her left hand and pulled it off. He reached into the small pocket on the front of his jacket and pulled out a glittering ring. He slipped the impressive bit of jewelry onto her finger as people stood at their tables to get a better look.
When he regained his feet, he kissed her.
This time, the applause wasn’t hampered by gloves.
Chapter Ten
Monday
November 30
“The opening’s tomorrow,” she reminded Sveyn needlessly. “I have a lot to do today.”
“Check the icon again.” He didn’t look away from the windshield as they wove through the rush-hour-crowded parkway and toward the museum.
“When I have time.” She had stayed behind yesterday and moved the pieces apart after the tea. Truthfully, the thing was creeping her out and the less time she spent in its presence, the better. Denial was a wonderful thing.
“Do not wait too long, Hollis. They must not touch.”
“I know.”
“Promise me.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “Now be quiet and let me think.”
Stevie was already in the office hallway, flashing her diamond engagement ring and telling the story of George’s public proposal.
“Want to see a picture?” She pulled up the photos on her phone and showed them to the employees who worked in the public areas of the museum, while they all made the appropriate coos and comments.
Hollis smiled as she scooted past the crowd and into her office. There was too much to finish for her to waste time this morning—not that congratulating Stevie on her abundant happiness was wasting time exactly, but Hollis had toasted and hugged her friend yesterday. And tomorrow evening the proof of her worth as a collections manager would be displayed to the world.
That meant that she had to be focused today. Details were key.
“What the hell is this?” Tony Samoa stormed into Hollis’s office holding up his phone.
“Good morning, Tony.” Hollis stepped behind her desk and dropped her purse into the drawer. “What are you all worked up about now?”
“This.” Tony thrust the phone in front of her. “Don’t play dumb, Hollis. It doesn’t suit you.”
Hollis stared at the headline on the Arizona Central website: Cursed or Blessed? Icons have a will of their own.
“What the—” Hollis fell onto her chair and pulled the site up on her computer. As she read the copy, a shudder of foreboding tripped up her spine.
A six-thousand-year-old icon, which will be on public display beginning on Wednesday at the Arizona History and Cultural Center, seems to be trying to fulfill its own legend.
“Oh my god.” Hollis framed her forehead with her hands as she read the short article, which claimed that the pieces mysteriously inched closer together on their own in their special case.
“Every morning when we return to the display, the halves are closer together than the evening before,” states the Museum’s Director Isaac Benton. “It’s undoubtedly eerie.”
Hollis rose to her feet, so angry she could hardly see straight.
“Don’t say anything!” she growled at Sveyn who was giving her an angrily smug look.
“Like what?” Tony demanded. “Like this is a cheap trick—which it is!”
Hollis leaned her hands on her desk and glared at Tony, who recoiled a little. “This is all Benton’s doing and I’m going to call him on it.”
She straightened. “You want to come?”
Without waiting for an answer, Hollis strode from her office toward Benton’s, assuming the museum’s permanent collections manager and the Viking apparition were both close behind.
*****
“Ms. McKenna, I don’t like your tone.” Benton sat behind his desk, the offending article displayed on his screen.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Benton.” Hollis struggled to pull back her irritation. “But I don’t like my work ridiculed.”
“No one is ridiculing your work,” Benton objected. “On the contrary—you’ve done an excellent job.”
Hollis threw a thumb over her shoulder in Tony’s direction. “He’s ridiculing it. My peer thinks this is a joke. And he’s right.”
Benton’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly is the joke here?”
Hollis turned around and faced Tony. “Tell him. You called it a cheap trick.”
The Hispanic man flinched. “What I meant was—”
“Trick?” Benton stood and pinned Tony with a hard gaze. “Are you suggesting that I am moving the pieces myself?” His gaze shifted to Hollis. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Hollis was gobsmacked. There was only one way to respond to the question. “Are you saying that the pieces actually moved on their own?”
Benton raised his hands. “Well I’ve never touched them!”
Hollis felt all the fire drain from her, and another shiver of fear took its place.
“I told you, Hollis,” Sveyn murmured in her ear. “That thing has power.”
She wagged her head. “This isn’t possible…”
“Go check them now,” the Viking urged.
Hollis spun on her heel and left Benton’s office, practically running through the halls to the Kensington wing. She heard footsteps behind her; apparently Tony and Benton were both following her.
She stopped in front of the case, staring in disbelief. “After the tea, I moved them apart.”
Tony appeared on her left. “How far?”
“A foot.”
The icons were so close that barely an inch separated them. Hollis whirled to face a panting Benton. “How did you know about this?”
“About what? That the pieces move?” He scowled at her. “I know everything that happens in this museum.”
“Who has the combination and keys besides me and Miranda?”
“I do.”
“Who else?” she pressed.
He folded his arms over his chest. “No one.”
The realization punched Hollis in the chest. “And you told the reporters about this yesterday afternoon while I was at the tea.”
“I believe it’s newsworthy. Don’t you?”
“I believe it’s ticket worthy.” Hollis dragged her fingers through her curls. “What’s really going on here?”
Benton lifted one eyebrow. “What’s going on here is that this wing opens tomorrow night. And this icon is the most unique object in the man’s collection. And thanks to your research, Ms. McKenna, we know that there is a legend attached to the pieces.”
Hollis shifted her gaze to Sveyn. His expression was somber and otherwise unreadable.
“I assure you, I have never touched these pieces,” Benton co
ntinued. “I can’t tell you anything more than that.”
Tony’s face was pale. “I, uh, apologize, Hollis. I thought it was your doing.”
“Apology accepted,” she mumbled. Shooting a glance at Benton, she fished the case’s key from her pocket. “I’ll move them apart again and then get back to work.”
*****
Hollis was exhausted, probably more from the unease prompted by the day’s revelations than the actual tasks she completed for tomorrow’s gala opening.
It’s not possible. The pieces can’t move themselves.
“Could it be magnetic?” she asked Miranda. “Maybe the steel is magnetized.”
“That’s an easy test,” her boss pointed out. “Did you try it?”
Hollis did.
Nothing.
She sat slumped in her office chair with her feet on her desk. “There has to be an explanation, Sveyn. Someone is moving those pieces.”
The Viking sat on the corner of her desk. “Though I disagree, there is a way to discover if that is true.”
Hollis shook her head. “Benton would never release the security video. It’s to his advantage to keep the possibility alive.”
“I am not speaking about the security video.”
Hollis tilted her head up toward Sveyn’s. “What then?”
“Me.”
Of course. “How?”
“My tether has grown long enough that I can easily remain inside the museum while you are outside.” He tipped his head in the direction of the back door. “You leave and scan your card. Park your car as far from me as you can, and stay there. If I see someone move the pieces, I will tell you.”
Her brow puckered. “Could be a long night.”
“Or an early morning.”
“Yes… Someone could be arriving very early to move them.” Hollis pressed her lips together and nodded. “That’s obviously what we need to do.”
“When shall we do this?”
Good question.
“The sooner the better, I think.” Hollis stretched. “Tonight.”
Sveyn looked at her like she was nuts. “You are too tired.”