Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jay
I turn into the driveway of the big house and pull around to park at the cottage.
Time has been weirdly elastic since I left Phoebe on the landing Saturday. It was only three nights ago, but some part of my brain never left that kiss, replaying it on a loop so I can rediscover her sound, scent, and taste multiple times a day. Okay, multiple times an hour. I’m still there, and yet it feels like forever ago.
I’ve had a lot of first kisses, many good, some great. That kiss between Phoebe and me was next level. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, an electric newness combined with a sense of recognition, of the realization that this is how it’s meant to be and everything else was a warmup. I don’t know if a person gets more than one kiss like that in a lifetime. That can’t just be me, can it? It’s like even the landscaper knew because she called the flower Phoebe asked about Floris amoris —the flower of love, but I swear she was making it up on the spot.
Time isn’t cooperating any better today. The drive back was almost five hours, and I can’t decide if it felt longer or shorter. Part of me can’t wait to see Phoebe, to see if she’s reached the same conclusion I have about us. Part of me has dreaded it. Wouldn’t she have broken the silence if it was news I wanted to hear?
Her car is in its usual spot when I pass it, and the buzz I feel every time I know I’m going to see her intensifies. I’ve made it back with almost an hour to spare before the board meeting, but I don’t want to wait that long to see her. I want to shower off the stale road trip feeling and go wish her luck before everyone else starts arriving.
Is it an excuse to get a read on her, to see if she’s decided about us? Yes. But I’m a man in?—
Well. I’m a man in a hurry to see the woman he’s really into.
I let myself into the cottage and go straight to Samuel’s portrait, which I’ve left in time-out since I showed it to Phoebe.
“Sam, my man,” I say, sweeping it up to meet his eyes, “you’re still a rogue, but I get it now. No more smirking. I know your secrets.” I settle the portrait over the mantle and step back to study him. He definitely looks less self-satisfied.
Twenty minutes later, I’m showered and dressed for the board meeting. I’ve taken some extra care to make sure I look like someone Professor Martinez would want to recommend to his former colleagues at Amherst, because I’ve decided Phoebe is right: it’s time for me to get serious about getting hired, and that means expecting people to take me seriously. I’ve picked a striped Oxford and an appropriately sober tie befitting a college professor.
I hurry across the property to the big house and through the back door, popping my head into the butler’s pantry to check for new tea sets. I don’t see any, but I do see a clear bin of … what are those? I crouch for a closer look, but I’m no less confused. It’s a bunch of old-fashioned egg beaters, the ki nd with a manual crank on the side that would make the two whisks spin—at least forty of them.
I grin as I imagine Phoebe trying to figure out what to make of them and hop up to go ask her myself. As I near the library, I hear voices, and my guess is Catherine Crawford came early again. I pause to make sure I’m not interrupting anything sensitive before I barge in.
“—for your feedback after the last meeting,” Phoebe is saying. “It led to some valuable insights. I think you’ll be pleased.”
“I suppose we’ll find out shortly,” Catherine says, her tone as cool as the words. “Did you take all my concerns under advisement?”
I catch Catherine’s emphasis on the word all , and Phoebe’s pause tells me she did too. Since I’m pretty sure this is about me, it feels like the absolute wrong time to announce myself.
“You mean Jay,” Phoebe says, her voice as cool as Catherine’s now.
“Unless you’re dating yet another person I should be aware of?” Catherine asks.
My hands curl at the sardonic note in her voice.
“No,” Phoebe says. “I’m not dating anyone you need to be aware of. Jay is a nice guy, and it’s helpful that he knows so much about the estate, but he’s …”
My fists tighten because I’m going to hate whatever follows that “but.” I can tell.
“He’s unserious,” Phoebe says. “My entire focus is the museum, and if I were going to make time to date, it wouldn’t be for a lightweight.”
“Hmm,” Catherine says, and it sounds considering, not skeptical.
My stomach shrinks into a hard knot. I’ve heard enough. I back up a few steps and walk down the hall more heavily to announce my presence, stepping into the library with an amiable smile.
“Jay,” Phoebe says. She’s also smiling, but hers has a tight quality. I want to tell her Don’t worry, I heard you loud and clear .
“Phoebe,” I say, nodding at her, my smile not changing. “Catherine, how are you?” I hold out my hand for a shake.
Catherine accepts it. “I’m well, Jay. And you?”
“Couldn’t be better.” Unless I were literally anywhere else right now .
“How was your research trip?” Phoebe asks.
“Informative. I just got back and came over without grabbing a bite. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check out the refreshments.” I make my way over to the food, and after I fill my plate with a couple of ham sliders and some sliced fruit, I choose an easy chair and not the sofa where Phoebe and I wrestled.
Catherine comes over to examine the offerings, but Phoebe is kept busy as the rest of the board members arrive, exchanging greetings with each of them.
Michaela Berg calls the meeting to order right on time. Phoebe is in another suit, this one with no personality. Flat shoes, her regular lipstick. She’s always beautiful, but this is a direct contrast to the last board meeting, one more visual cue to Catherine that Phoebe Means Business, that she can be Taken Seriously.
She’s driving that point into the ground.
Michaela does all the required points of order and says, “That takes us to Phoebe. Director Hopper, I’m looking forward to your update. The floor is yours.”
Phoebe turns on the screen for her PowerPoint. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the board. After our last meeting, I asked the treasurer to elaborate on her reservations about my exhibit proposals. I did know Foster Martin fairly well, but as Mrs. Crawford pointed out, she knows Serendipity Springs, and I did not. Do not, still, to be honest with you, but I’ve been learning. And as I’ve learned, my vision for the museum has changed.”
The next slide is an overview of her map, the one she divided up to learn the city, and I force myself to keep a straight face as I remember how seeing it over her shoulder affected me. Or not the map, exactly, but her enthusiasm. The need to kiss her and breathe some of that … Phoebe-ness in, it had been almost overwhelming, but also the exact wrong way to respond to a woman being brilliant. So I’d escaped to the kitchen.
She goes through the discoveries she’s made in her exploration over the last two weeks, and how that’s begun to influence the role she sees the museum filling. “The best pierogi in town are at Tom’s Deli, and at least three other pierogi shops in this square right here are almost as good.” She highlights it on the map. “This is where the earliest Polish immigrants settled when they came to work in the Mass Med factory, and their influence is all over this neighborhood, from the beautiful Church of Our Lady of Czestochowa to Pulaski Hall, which hosts wedding receptions most weekends of the year.”
The next slide is a mockup of an exhibit titled “Mówi? Prosto z Mostu: Polish History in Serendipity Springs.”
“This expression translates, roughly, as ‘to speak from the bridge.’ The idiom means to tell it like it is, and it’s an apt approach to interpreting the ways in which the Poles have contributed to the city’s culture and vibrancy. It’s one of many unique lenses for examining the city’s history, and no sooner do I round a corner than I find another one.”
The next slide shows objects I recognize, although this time she has photos of the items the Willards donated arranged as another exhibit mockup titled “Quack! How to Tell Science from Scams.”
“I laughed when I first looked up some of these devices,” Phoebe says, “but did you know that sham doctors and their often-dangerous cure-alls are the very reason the Better Business Bureau was formed? It was so out of hand that lawmakers were yelling for regulation or at least a way to warn people of the most shameless offenders. It reached a peak in the Gilded Age, but many legitimate medical breakthroughs also happened during this time, including the one that became the cornerstone of the Martin family empire.”
“Empire is a little strong,” I say. No Martins have ever aspired to empire.
She blinks at me. “The Martin family prosperity.”
I don’t contradict her. We do like to prosper.
“This exhibit proposal came about as a direct result of me discovering the apothecary. These were donated by the Willards, whose ancestors bought up as many of these devices during their heyday as they could to keep people from being swindled or even hurt. Over time, it became a family hobby of theirs to collect old medical memorabilia, and the current Willards were generous enough to donate their collection to the museum.”
It’s unsurprising that she talked to one of the old Willards to get more of the story, or that she’d characterize that blunt note as a generous donation. She’s clearly very good at this job.
She continues with her presentation, explaining how she’ll continue to learn the city, to understand its story, and find a way to represent every section of her map with exhibits that will rotate on a quarterly basis to give residents a chance to learn about the lesser-known or nearly forgotten history of Serendipity Springs.
When she finishes, Michaela, Dr. Smithson, and Professor Martinez all break into applause, Catherine and I joining a half beat behind. But Catherine is smiling .
“I’m even more impressed,” Michaela says. “You’re onto something special here.”
Dr. Smithson nods. “Agreed on both counts. Of course, my particular interests will mean I try to convince you to do the quack medicine exhibit first, but I find myself interested in elements you mentioned that I thought I understood on the surface. I look forward to digging deeper.”
“I look forward to seeing how you interpret these concepts and to seeing any new ones you’ll present,” Professor Martinez says. “May I assume you’ll have new ones for each meeting as you continue your explorations?”
“You may,” she says, smiling. She knows she nailed it.
“I have no concerns,” Catherine says, and that is the biggest green flag Phoebe could have asked for. She gives Catherine a single, measured nod of acknowledgment.
I’m the only one who hasn’t commented, and I clear my throat. “My family will be pleased with the direction you’re going.”
She deserves more. But between wanting to match her demeanor and feeling the heavy disappointment of the way she spoke about me to Catherine, keeping it short and cordial is the best I can do. Besides, she basically told Catherine I’m too much of a lightweight for my opinion to matter anyway.
The meeting wraps up not too much later, and when Michaela adjourns it, I make sure to shake hands with everyone, including Phoebe, who I strategically encounter right in the middle. She gives my hand an extra squeeze and looks me in the eye, hers glinting like we’ve got a secret, but I give her the same sociable smile I’m giving everyone else. That only ticks the corners of her lips up even higher, as if she’s in on the joke.
She moves on to Catherine next, and I listen even as I’m shaking hands with Dr. Smithson .
“Well done, Ms. Hopper. That showed some …” Catherine pauses.
“Spirit?” Phoebe suggests, and I hear the smile in her voice.
“And initiative,” Catherine adds.
“Thank you,” Phoebe says. “I know you need to get on the road, so I won’t hold you up, but I appreciate that.”
“I’ve decided it’s probably best I don’t drive back to Boston until the morning from now on. But I do need to get to the hotel in time for The Kardashians .”
Phoebe gives a startled laugh, and I want to see both their expressions, but right now, I’m more frustrated than curious, and it’s not worth turning around to face Phoebe and pretend her earlier words to Catherine didn’t hurt.
A few minutes later, I apologize to everyone for running off but explain I’m tired from a turnaround trip and assure them all I look forward to our next board meeting.
I’m halfway to the cottage when my phone buzzes with a text.
Phoebe
Good job. See you in a few.
But when I get to the cottage, I don’t bother turning the lights on, because for my peace of mind, as far as Phoebe is concerned right now, I’m not home.