9
ELEANOR
I rub my fingers together, desperate for them to warm up. The archive gets colder throughout the day as the world outside heats up. Jolene’s informed me the system controlling the temperature is set to do that, but I can’t imagine it needs to be so frigid I can nearly see my breath.
Just a little bit longer . . .
Another binder, another day. I am moving through the photos at a steady rate, but I underestimated how much uncategorized material the archive had.
I zip up my fleece (yes, a fleece in Texas), and burrow my nose into it as I stare down at another muddy shot of Austin City Limits, so overexposed I can’t tell if it's Robert Plant or Allison Krauss or both.
“Eleanor?”
I look up; Jolene is poking her head out from the center aisle. “What’s up?” I ask, my voice muffled by my sweater.
She cocks a smile at me. “Are you really that cold?”
“No,” I say drolly.
She laughs, tinkly like a glockenspiel. “You’re so funny.”
I smile, though it’s hidden in my sweater. Through these two weeks, I’ve become quite fond of my boss. She spends a lot of time talking my ear off instead of doing her job. That’s how I’ve basically heard her whole life story. I like people who overshare in the name of closeness. I’ve never been like that, but I’m a good listener and find those who like to expose themselves gravitate toward me for that very reason.
Makes having a job that much easier when you like who you work with.
“Anyway, there’s a man asking about you at the front desk,” she says.
I frown and glance up at the clock. “He’s early.”
“So, you know him?” Jolene’s eyes brighten and she smiles.
“Um, yeah.”
“ Um, yeah . How can you be so calm about it?” she says, putting her hand on her hip.
I close the binder. Not going to be getting much more work done today now that Jolene has me locked in a conversation. Robert Plant/Allison Krauss will have to wait. “Because he’s a friend?”
“A friend? You’re letting yourself be friends with a guy who looks like that? How do you have that much self-restraint?” Jolene squeaks. “Unless you don’t swing that way, in which case, that’s totally fine.”
I giggle. “I do swing that way. But Luke’s just a friend.”
“Luke?! God, even his name is sexy.”
I get up from my workstation, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous! Guys don’t just show up at your place of work asking for you if you’re friends .”
“Hate to break it to you, Jolene, but they do. He’s helping me figure out the story behind that photo I found on my first day. You know, the one of the woman outside The Lone Star.”
Jolene’s eyes widen. “Damn, seriously?”
“Seriously,” I say and fish my bag off the ground to start packing up my stuff.
She edges up to the front of my table. “But how did you meet him ?”
“On 6th Street. Accident. We quite literally bumped into each other,” I say, smiling fondly as I remember the tumble of gummies onto the ground, the excitement of that Friday night around us.
Jolene slaps her hand against her forehead. “And you’re telling me you two are just friends? That’s a meet cute if ever heard one.”
She’s not wrong. But it’s already been determined. We are working on a project together. Nothing more. And that’s fine. Even after last night, sharing drinks and listening to jazz. It’s fine that we’re just friends. I’m totally fine with it.
Okay, I’m not fine with it, my insides are mush when I think about Luke. However, I don’t need that complication. I’ve moved to a new city, started a new job, and taken on a passion project.
Not to mention, he’d be much more interested in someone like Jolene.
“I can introduce you if you like,” I say.
Jolene’s head jolts back. “You’re insane. If I were friends with a man like that, I’d never let my friends get a hold of him.”
My insides warm at the idea Jolene considers me a friend. Southern hospitality is a very real thing. “Well, fine. Your loss I guess.”
“Where are you going then?” she asks as I step away, following at my heels down the bank of binders. “For your research project.”
“We’re going to the house of a local musician. Bobby Sutton. Heard of him?”
Jolene snorts. “Of course I’ve heard of Bobby Sutton.”
“Yeah, well, he ran The Lone Star at the time of the photo, and he might have some documentation to give us information on who the woman in the photo is. If she was a musician or . . .” I trail off as Jolene’s smile grows. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Jolene looks away like she’s been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “I was just thinking that your story would be really neat to share during the next exhibition.”
I frown. “The ‘0s exhibition? I thought that was trying to emphasize the grunge and punk scenes.”
“It’s about the ‘0s . Sure, they’re trying to capitalize on Gen Z’s new appreciation of Nirvana, but you know, they have to paint the whole picture. And besides, maybe she was in a grunge band and is just on the softer side,” Jolene says.
I chuckle. “That would be surprising, to say the least.” The woman in the photograph gives more Joni Mitchell than Kim Deal.
“I’m just saying because, I know your tenure here is supposed to be temporary, but who knows? If you’re able to offer more than your contract stipulated, people upstairs might be able to find you a more permanent position here.”
My stomach flips at the notion, which is surprising. When I accepted this job, it was comforting to know that I wouldn’t be stuck here forever. A short tenure at a small museum in a big city, then onto the next.
However, in just the two short weeks I’ve been here, there’s something exciting about the idea of having a reason to stay.
Maybe it’s the mystery, the richness of a new and strange city. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been welcomed here. By Jolene, by Luke . . .
“Then I don’t have to train someone new,” Jolene adds, folding over her middle and rolling her eyes as far back as they’ll go. “God, you have no idea how annoying it is to train someone.”
I laugh. “Well, I’ll do my best not to disappoint you, Jolene.” I open the door to the stairwell.
“Hey, have fun . That’s the most important thing. I mean, with a guy like that—"
“Bye, Jolene!” I call out over my shoulder, laughing to myself as I head up the stairs and out into the main lobby where Luke is standing against the far wall, waiting. When he hears the door open, he raises his eyes to mine and the stillness of his expression breaks with a warm smile. He kicks himself upright and strides over to meet me in the middle of the lobby.
“You’re early,” I say.
“Trying to make up for my previous lateness,” he says.
I chuckle. “You’re lucky my boss is a cool boss.”
“Ah, the blonde who said she was going to get you? Yeah, she seems like the cool boss type.”
My shoulders tense. Is that meant to be suggestive? Is the cool boss type somehow someone he would want rather than a lowly, temporary employee? I try to cast those thoughts aside as we emerge from the frigid museum into the Austin summer heat. This is the only moment in my day I actually like the heat. In only a minute or two, my body will be begging for the chill of the archive again.
Luke’s car is right on the curb in the standing zone, blinkers blinking.
I grab the passenger side door, but Luke intercepts me. “Uh-uh-uh,” he chides. “My job.”
I step back and allow him to open the door for me, shaking my head. “I can open my own door.”
“I know you can,” he says, throwing me a smile over the roof of the car. “But you don’t have to. That’s the difference.” Luke climbs into the car out of sight while I try to control my raging heartbeat.
Thank god I can blame any blushing on the beating sun overhead.
When I get into the car, Luke immediately thrusts a condensation-soaked iced coffee into my hand. “I don’t know your order, so I went off vibes. Iced horchata latte.”
I bug my eyes out. “That sounds . . . amazing.”
“I also . . .” He reaches into the back seat and retrieves several brown pastry bags. “Have snacks if you’re hungry.”
I laugh in disbelief and excitement. I grab the bag that smells of cinnamon. “Mm. Coffee cake. My favorite.”
Luke makes a fist and pumps it in the air. “Score.”
“You really didn’t have to do this,” I say.
“You bet I did. We’ve got a long drive in rush hour traffic ahead of us,” he says. “Now buckle up, princess.”
Somehow the word “princess” in his accent doesn’t sound at all condescending. In fact, I like it.
Buckled and ready to go, Luke pulls onto the street and begins the drive down to Bobby’s.
“You think we’ll get anything out of this trip?” I ask, breaking off a piece of the coffee cake loaf.
“Something has gotta turn up in all of Bobby’s mess,” Luke says, eyes fixed to the road through a pair of aviators.
I nibble on the coffee cake. Heaven. “Mm. Needed this.”
Luke says nothing, just smiles to himself, eyes not leaving the road. It’s pleased him to please me.
I like that.
“Apparently, if things go the way we’d like, they might use the photograph in the next exhibition at the library,” I say.
Luke does a double take. “Seriously?”
“I mean, that hinges on us actually figuring out who the woman is and if she’s even important, but the next exhibition is all about the ‘0s and given the date of the photo, it would fit right in.”
“Next best thing to having your own photographs shown I’m sure,” Luke says.
I shake my head. “I mean, I haven’t even—that’s not what I’m—" I decide to move on from his comment without acknowledging it in a cogent way. “My boss said it might merit a long-term position at the library. Which would be cool.”
Luke grins at the road, which is dissonant given the stop and start traffic we’re already in. “You’re already taking a shine to Austin, huh?”
“I guess two weeks isn’t enough to tell. More like a glorified vacation,” I say, then break off another piece and pop it in my mouth.
“Naw, I think when you know you know,” Luke says.
I let that sentence hang in the air. I’ve heard that sentence used often in reference to all sorts of gut feelings. Mostly love and romance. And though I’ve put up a mental wall between Luke and crush territory, I can’t ignore the warmth in my chest.
Luke looks over at me when I don’t respond. “You know?”
I can’t bear to meet his gaze. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Austin’s the best city in the world,” Luke says.
“Maybe that’s why I’m liking it so much. I’m seeing it through your eyes.”
He leans his head back on the headrest of his seat. “And I’ve been told I have very nice eyes.”
More warmth burning through my ribs. His flirtations are getting bolder and more consistent. Unless that’s just the type of person he is. I’ve met people like that, where you think they’re flirting with you, but when you ask someone if they would agree, they tell you, “Oh, he’s just like that.”
Luke is the definition of “he’s just like that.”
I have decided not to take it personally. I will take the way he speaks to me at face value. And he should do the same. “Yes, well, I am enjoying looking through them so far.”
Luke’s smile falters and his teeth land on his lower lip.
I think I’ve taken him off-guard.
A moment later, Luke flicks on the radio and turns it up, drowning out any thoughts of what’s been said .