Chapter 24 #2
I studied the lines, asked him questions about clasps and gemstone placement and technical questions about design.
As he spoke, I marveled at my dear father and his wonderful mind, at the innovation I was seeing play out before my very eyes.
I wished I were like him, but I wasn’t. I hadn’t been struck by a rush of ideas or a flurry of inspiration and excitement.
I felt lost, trapped in a life I didn’t want anymore—or had ever wanted.
Still, my father’s enthusiasm was contagious, and when he’d finished explaining each of his sketches and how he might extend this new collection, we embraced each other tightly, and for the first time in months, we regarded each other with a genuine smile.
* * *
Though our trip was brief, it had been an overall success.
My father was more inspired than I had ever seen him, and for a few days, I felt content in the glow of his happiness.
But it didn’t last as my thoughts returned to Jet and Julien’s business venture, the letters I’d received, and the awkward if hostile exchanges at Evalyn’s party.
I still couldn’t make sense of it all, and I realized how merciful it had been over the past few days to be free of her and the Washington crowd.
Yet when I didn’t hear from Evalyn for days, I grew restless and checked our mailbox for invitations.
I waited by the telephone, too, for long spells, and I even traveled to Friendship with the intent of stopping by only to change my mind at the last minute.
I tossed in bed at night, gut churning, mind racing.
Beyond my fear of being fired, I didn’t know why it made me tremble to think of being cast out from Evalyn’s circle.
My time with the McLeans had been difficult, often embarrassing, and left me feeling inadequate far more often than I cared to admit, as if I should be grateful to have the good fortune of being in their presence.
Wanting to fit into the McLeans’ world was a habit I couldn’t seem to shake, a drug that delivered me from the pain and monotony of my days in a world without Julien and now from my father, who expected me to return to the duties I’d held before my brother’s death.
I couldn’t go back to that life of ledgers and the desperate need to feel good enough, talented enough, to design something innovative when it wasn’t what I truly wanted. Too much had changed.
The sound of voices drifted up the stairs to my bedroom. I frowned. We had company? Given my father’s reticence the past several months, I couldn’t imagine who he would have invited to the house. I paused as I walked into the kitchen.
Henry, of course. He stood over the stove, reaching for the kettle.
“It’s ready, Mr. Beaumont,” Henry called. When he heard my footsteps, he looked up. “Liz, I didn’t know you were here.”
“I live here,” I said, tone more acerbic than I meant it to be. When he pressed his lips together in frustration, I instantly regretted my comment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
“It’s fine,” he said, carrying the kettle to the table.
I watched him pour each of us a cup of hot water as Father doled out sugar cubes and strainers packed with fragrant tea leaves. We sat around the dining table making polite conversation about the weather and the news until at last, my father mumbled an excuse and left the room.
“I know you aren’t keen on seeing much of me,” Henry said, running a hand through his hair. “You seem awfully busy with your new friends.” He looked at me closely, studying my face as if trying to discern what was really going on with me.
Irritated by his swift judgment and exhausted from the lack of sleep the past several nights, I didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. “And? Of course I’m busy.”
He shook his head. “I get the message loud and clear, Liz. You’re too busy for me, too busy for any of us from your old life, so I planned to leave a message with your father instead.
But you’re here after all, so now you’ll have to deal with me for just a few minutes more, and then I’ll be out the door and gone forever, if you wish. ”
Stung by his anger and by the view he now carried of me—this woman he didn’t recognize—I suddenly felt exhausted by it all, by everyone, by everything said and unsaid. I rubbed my eyes tiredly, anxious for him to finish and to leave. “What is it, Henry?”
“They’re looking for more lab workers at the museum, in particular an assistant to help a mineralogist identify and catalog stones. Of course I thought of you instantly. It’s part-time work for now, and as a woman, your pay wouldn’t be a living wage, but I thought you should know.”
A bolt of excitement zipped through me. The prospect of interviewing, of being hired, of spending time doing what I now knew I really wanted to do left me feeling elated, hopeful. What if, for once, I allowed myself the very rare occurrence of following my heart?
“They’re hiring inexperienced women?” I said cautiously.
“You’ve been collecting rocks and identifying them since you could walk.
You’ve worked with vendors for years. And how much reading have you done about geological processes?
You’ve made a good friend in Ken Davis, one of the best curators on the Eastern Seaboard.
You’re a scientist, through and through.
The last thing you are is inexperienced, Elisabeth. ”
In spite of myself, pleasure coursed through me at the sound of my name on his lips, at the clear depiction of who I was.
He was right—about all of it. I wasn’t exactly inexperienced, but I hadn’t had any formal schooling, no official training in a lab, outside of what my father had taught me.
Still, perhaps I knew enough? Perhaps I could be brave enough to try it, no matter what.
“Are they hiring women, truly?”
He nodded. “More and more. I don’t know if there are opportunities to move into a full-time paid position, but if you’re also helping your father with the business, you wouldn’t have time for that anyway.
Assuming the interview goes well, of course.
Naturally I’d put in a good word for you, and given the interactions you’ve now had with lizard wizard Julia Wane, I suspect she would, too. ” A hint of a smile touched his lips.
I allowed myself a minute to daydream about the possibility of no longer managing the shop, of leaving the sales and everything else to my father.
Of escaping the constant inadequacies of my designs and the endless peddling to wealthy patrons.
I pictured myself in a lab coat, striding through the sacred halls of the museum and saw the future I truly wanted.
“I don’t know,” I said at last, running my finger around the edge of my teacup. “I have so much to do here…and you know my father wouldn’t approve.”
“One day, you must follow your own path, not his,” Henry said gently. “Your designs and craftsmanship are wonderful, of course, but we both know that isn’t where your heart lies.”
My eyes met his, and for a moment, I gazed at his dear face.
No matter how much time had passed or the wedge I’d allowed to be driven between us, he truly understood me: what I wanted, who I wanted to be, to my very core.
And I loved him. No matter what had happened between us or that horrible night, I would always love him.
I looked away, blinking against the threatening tears.
When I didn’t answer, he added, “It’s your father’s business. You work for him, but you don’t have to.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do that to him, can’t leave him on his own. He’s already lost so much. And it’s the family business. I just…I can’t.”
“Elisabeth?” my father called from the other room. “I need your help with the welder when you have a second. No rush. I can work on something else while you finish your visit.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I shouted back.
Henry and I exchanged another long, lingering look.
He touched my forearm and withdrew his hand just as quickly. “You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it.”
“Thank you for coming,” I said. “For telling me about this. I’ll think about it.”
“Of course. You know I only want you to be happy,” he replied.
But with my father’s voice still ringing in my ears, I already felt myself closing down, the shuttering of my emotion, and most of all, the shuttering of new possibilities that could never be.