Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
“Hey,” I say.
Will looks up, brow furrowed. A tendril of hair falls over an eyebrow, and he absently pushes it back. Distracting.
“Have you been to the collections yet? I’m sure you’ve seen the galleries.”
“I’ve seen the galleries,” Will confirms. “Why?”
“Let’s test out your swipe card and see if you have access to the collections area. That’s important. And if you don’t, we can get Lily to help set that up for you when we see her.”
Blinking, he looks at me as though he’s seeing me for the first time. “Thanks. That’s very thoughtful.”
“Don’t be so surprised.” I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
Who knew I’d get so much mileage out of teasing Will?
I’m still trying to figure him out. I mean, there’s a lot to figure out since I don’t know the guy.
With a McLaren or a Land Rover or whatever he’s driving, I expected him to be ultra cool, and he is.
But also… he’s shy? Or reserved. Or something.
That’s definitely unexpected. I expected him to be more of a player, like Raj from the other night, who’s all slick moves and got it down.
Maybe Will’s a player and he’s keeping it under wraps at work.
Stiff upper lip and all that. Or maybe he simply doesn’t like me and he’s trying to be polite.
“Besides, it’s cooler downstairs. Let’s go take a quick break before the meeting, see if we can get you in, and see what’s what. ”
We leave the boardroom, and I lead the way to the back stairs. “There’s an elevator too. We’ll take that when we return, but I want to show you the other way down. Sometimes it’s faster, even with the stairs, when people are using the lift. It’s meant for freight, but people use it all the time.”
Will nods, looking stoic as ever. Under his arm, he has his sleek leather folio, and I admire his dedication to advance planning and keeping track of everything.
And that he might even consider taking notes from something that I might say.
Like it’s important or useful. What a weird idea.
Mr. McLaren—Will—listening to me. Two days ago, this would have been a completely impossible scenario, yet here we are.
I lead him through the doors at the back of the office, through another black-painted corridor past the freight lift, to another staircase.
We push through the heavy doors, and I trot lightly down the stairs on the balls of my feet.
For Will’s part, he takes the stairs more slowly and deliberately than I do, but it doesn’t matter. We keep a good pace.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to tear along,” I tell him as I wait on the next landing down. “I’m excited to show you the collections. It’s way more fun than spreadsheets or textbooks, I promise.”
Will pauses halfway down the last flight of stairs, resting his hand on the rail as he looks at me. “It’s no bother at all.”
And a moment later, we stand together at the bottom of the stairwell before another set of heavy industrial double doors with scuffed paint.
“These need swipe card access to get through. Also, these stairs go up to the back of the galleries, and if you keep going, eventually you get to the roof. You’ll need swipe card access there too.
” I gesture back at the stairs. “I’ve checked before, and I can’t get through.
Probably only Security can get up there. I bet it’s a wicked view, though.”
“I’m not sure what wickedness has to do with views,” Will says archly. Though I swear his eyes glimmer in the weird light down here. Otherwise, the matte-black walls are sucking in light and making everything flat. Except him. He shines.
“It’s a manner of speech,” I say in mock exasperation. “Let’s try your card, then. This leads into the collections.”
“This is it?” Will’s taken aback as he takes in the dim, and frankly a bit dreary, corridor. “It doesn’t look like much.”
“Exactly the point. It’s better for security in case someone gets this far down the stairs that they don’t know what’s behind these doors.
I mean, you can’t get to where we were upstairs without swiping into the office, but still.
Not everyone at the museum has access to the collections. The Curatorial team. And Security.”
“Right.” He pulls out his swipe card from his pocket and tries the reader.
The light stays red.
“Try it again.”
But the light still stays stubbornly red.
“I’m glad we’re checking.” I try my card, which gets the green light for entry. I open the heavy door. “We’ll tell Lily so she can get this fixed for you with Security. It’ll be important for when we start receiving the rest of the exhibits that you can get down here.”
We walk through the doors into a dark room, lit only by an emergency light some distance away.
“Hang on. I’ll get the main lights.” I find the switches, which are on an ancient timer, and wind the knob as the room lights up. “You can put in an hour at a time from the back panel here. The front entry has a proper switch. The wiring’s weird down here because this building is so old.”
“Doesn’t that seem like a liability?” Will asks, blinking against the flickering fluorescent lights. “Not to have modern wiring?”
I shrug. “No idea. But that’s what I know. So, here we are. Welcome.”
As the lights adjust to a steadier glow and the flickers fade away, it’s plain to see that we’re standing in the middle of an aisle of industrial shelving that reaches to the ceiling, not that much taller than Will. Who is quite tall, but still. And we can see there are several aisles.
“Let’s tour,” I say with confidence. And we begin, as I describe each section while we walk through.
We stand in the furniture area, both historic and contemporary. There’re chairs and tables and dressers, and then as we walk, pianos and instruments. We go past a small library, with several shelves overflowing with reference books and boxes and odd things in the dim light.
We go past another aisle of furniture before we turn and swipe into an adjoining room of textiles and costume, historical fashion, and modern pieces too.
We keep walking, and there’s also a section filled with museum crates, where they’re stored during exhibitions, the loans from other places.
We find a section of ceramics, vases, and plates in cabinets.
I point out another room of costumes and other jewelry.
“There’s nothing high value in there, by the way. They’re in a vault.”
“Right.” Will’s wide-eyed as he takes in my tour. As expected, he’s jotting things down as we walk up and down. We go into another room of artworks, paintings hung on panels, and flat works kept in drawers, and more shelving with sculptures along the wall.
“And you might like this,” I tell him as we round the corner from another aisle. There are two small cars and a motorcycle by a wall.
Will’s head snaps up then, and he scans my expression to see if I’m getting in another dig at him. But I smile back, and he relaxes again. Why’s he so reactive to what I say? Like my opinion matters to him. Fat chance.
“The rest of the cars are out in a warehouse somewhere outside of London. The bigger ones, anyway. I haven’t been out there yet, but Lily’s told me about them. And the warehouse.”
He nods, taking in the cars. They’re both small electric cars, prototypes.
“They’re from Europe somewhere,” I explain helpfully. “We can look them up.”
“Actually...” Will tilts his head slightly, walking around the car. “That looks like a Toyota Prius. It’s the first mass-produced electric vehicle.”
“How do you know that?” I marvel, surprised.
Will lifts an eyebrow at me, a smile playing on his lips. He points at the car. “For starters, it says Toyota Prius on the back,” he explains. “And Toyotas are made in Japan. Usually.”
My face burns. “I totally knew that.” And maybe I did, once.
“Most people know that, in fact.” But he doesn’t say that in a withering way. He’s distracted, peering into the car, like he’s searching for ancient secrets. “It’s from the first generation of Priuses. From the late ’90s.”
“It can’t say that in there,” I say in dismay, going to stand beside him and peering in too. Then, I realize we’re practically shoulder to shoulder, so close I can feel the heat radiating from him. And I get goose bumps.
“The museum tag on the rearview says 1997, see? As for the Japanese connection, that’s common knowledge, like I said.”
“I don’t really know tons about cars,” I admit, sheepish. “Japanese or otherwise.”
“I’ve noticed.”
As we stare into the car, our arms accidentally brush.
We both straighten then, and we’re too close to one another. He quickly takes a step back and nearly stumbles, and then smooths his waves of hair off his forehead to cover. If anything, I move away even faster, hopping back like it’s an electric shock.
We’re met with another of our increasingly familiar awkward silences.
“So, you like cars, then. Especially sports cars.” Which is probably the stupidest thing to date that I’ve said to him. Thank you, mouth.
His lips twitch. “You could say that.”
“I guess we all have our things. That we like.”
“Yes.” Will looks at me, curiosity getting the better of him. “And yours is?”
“Museums,” I blurt, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind. And if I said dating it would make me look too flaky, especially compared with him and how seriously he’s been reading that museum book and making lists for the exhibition.
“We’ve come full circle, then,” he says wryly.
And I think of the fight we’ve just let the dust settle on, and I don’t really want to rehash our conversation—or fight—about my museums experience or the internship.
Or the one job at the end of this that we’re competing for.
Except I don’t have a chance since I don’t have his connections, but I really don’t want to go back to Canada at the end of the summer to struggle to find a new job in Vancouver.
“Mm.”
He glances at his luxury watch. “We’re meant to meet Lily in five minutes.”
“Oh shit. I lost track of the time. Let’s get out of here.”
I lead the way out through the collections, through an assortment of odd shapes and objects lining the shelves and corridors of this underground lair of museum objects.
I take him through the front way out, shutting off the lights as we leave.
As promised, we take the freight elevator back up to the boardroom level in time to meet Lily.
She’s already in the boardroom when we return.
“Sorry, we were downstairs. I wanted to show Will the collections.” Quickly, we go to our seats.
Will looks a bit flustered as we settle in again behind the safety of our laptops at opposite ends of the table, with Lily between us. Her back’s to the window, backlit somewhat by the bright day. I squint slightly to look at her.
“Yes, it was kind of Dylan to show me,” Will says gamely.
“Oh, I’m so glad you had a chance to go see the collections for an introduction. Thank you, Dylan.” Lily’s pleased, despite our delay in getting back.
“And we’re sorry we’re late,” I add.
“I only arrived a moment ago. I haven’t been here for long.” Lily opens her laptop before she looks at us in turn. “I’m curious to hear about your first impressions so far in your work and the shape of the plan that you’ve made together.”
Will and I look at each other. I chew my lip. He looks a little daunted, if anything.
I decide to dive in since I was tasked with showing Will the curatorial ropes, after all.
“We’ve reviewed the exhibition list that you’ve shown us and learned about the scope of the new exhibition.
We went over the sections of the exhibition, the status of exhibits.
And we decided to split the list of exhibits to gather the objects. Divide and conquer and all that.”
I don’t mention Will reading museum books for a day and a half, on a crash course in museum studies.
Call it instinct, but it’s probably better for both of us if I don’t bring that up.
Obviously, Lily knows he doesn’t have the museums background like I do, but who knows what she would think of me giving him actual textbooks to read on work time.
Not that I asked him to do that, exactly.
Lily considers me, thoughtful. “Actually,” she muses, “I’d rather that you both worked together. Two brains together are better than one.”
Will opens his mouth, but he quickly snaps his jaw shut. I swear I hear his teeth click together. I purse my lips and rub my jaw. I don’t want to challenge Lily since she’s our supervisor, but I can’t imagine spending every day of the next five weeks in Will’s company either.
What a nightmare.
I meet his gaze, and it’s obvious he’s thinking the same thing too. He quickly looks away.
“Yes.” Lily nods decisively. “Work together. It’s best for problem-solving and also the museum’s safety policy about not working alone, especially off-site. Now, what else have you determined?” This time, she looks at Will.
Will looks down at his leather folio. His cheeks are flushed, which is probably due to the warming day on top of the already too-warm room.
He opens it to the page he showed me yesterday of his carefully written lists.
“We’ve started mapping out a strategy to gather the exhibits from across London, and then outside of London, by region and lender.
We’ve also determined the status of each exhibit, such as noting which exhibits are currently available to be collected, while other exhibits need more groundwork to gather them. ”
“Will’s idea.” I glance over at him. I don’t say this to distance myself from the plan, but more to give him credit, because, after all, it’s all his planning. I’m not that sort of instinctively organized.
For a moment, he looks flustered before he smooths himself over to neutral.
“Very good,” says Lily, pleased. “I can’t wait to hear more.
I think, then, the next steps from here are to start collecting exhibits and spend some time each day also putting forward next steps in making arrangements to gather the rest of what we still need.
Please send me a daily email with your progress.
I’ll support you both, of course. If there are agreements still to finalize, let me know, and I’ll wrap those up.
And I’ll give you the Curatorial credit card as well, for anything you need to purchase or expense.
We also have a car service that you can use in London for pickups, if you like. ”
“’Kay,” I acknowledge. Will nods.
“You’ll start tomorrow,” Lily instructs us. “After lunch, reach out to whomever is closest to start collecting exhibits. There’s no time to waste.”
“Of course.” Will nods.
“Absolutely,” I agree at the same time.
“I’m glad you’re working so well together.” Lily closes her laptop and rises. “Thanks for your work so far. I can’t wait to hear how everything progresses.”
And I catch Will’s eye then. There’s a strange look that crosses his face, something like trepidation or regret.