Chapter 29 #4
Clay sat back in the chair, crossed his legs, and fiddled with the crease in his pants. When he realized he was copying Elliott, he uncrossed them. “When you’re ready to listen without interrupting, I’ll tell you what I discovered this morning.”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“When Bastien came out of the fog, he was standing near McSorley’s. Believing you could find him if you heard his sax, he played and drew a crowd, but you didn’t show up.”
“How could I? I was in Chicago.”
He ignored her and continued, “After a while, Tony McSorley asked him to move to another corner or come to his saloon and entertain his customers. Bastien was worried about you. But Tony assured him the music would reach just as far from inside the saloon as it did outside.”
“How’d you know he was at McSorley’s?”
“I didn’t. Remy suggested I should go see if Tony still owned the saloon. If so, we’d have something to tell his mother and brother, who are now living at Mallory Plantation.”
“Wait a minute. Tony McSorley, who owns the bar now, has a mother and brother living at Mallory Plantation?”
“When the family was here in 1896, Roisin and her son, Phin, went to the future because she fell in love with Gabe Moretti. Patrick Mallory and Remy bought the saloon and then deeded it to Tony. Remy wanted me to see how Tony was doing.”
“But Bastien didn’t know any of that. I’m sure Tony wasn’t wearing a sign that said his mother had time-traveled to the future.”
“He sort of did.” Then Clay immediately held up his hands to stop the barrage of questions he knew were forming on Marcelle’s tongue.
“When Remy and Patrick were at the saloon, they both had high-stakes boxing matches that have become legendary. There are newspaper articles about the fights plastered on the wall. Bastien saw the articles and asked Tony about them.”
“Of all the places he could have landed,” Marcelle said, staring out the window, “it was on Tony’s corner.”
Clay nodded slowly. “It’s like you landing where Skye could find you.”
She turned on him. “When can we see him?”
Clay hesitated. Long enough to matter. “Well—here’s the thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Tony asked me not to tell Bastien we’re here.”
“Why?”
“Because of the newspaper articles, Bastien knows Remy will come for him, so he’s not afraid he’ll have to live here. He also has money from playing at the saloon, but the big news is that he’s fallen in love.”
“In three days?”
“Yeah, can you believe he’s become so attached to a woman in three days?” The smile he gave her said he wasn’t just talking about Bastien.
She blushed and ducked her head. “I’m not surprised.”
Clay wanted to sketch Marcelle just as she looked at that moment.
If he had to tag the expression, he would call it coquettish.
“Anyway, Tony knows how they feel about each other and asked if we would give his daughter, Kaitlyn, and Bastien a few more days together. He’s afraid they might make a decision they’ll regret later. ”
“Like what?”
“Whether Bastien stays or Kaitlyn goes home with him.”
“He can’t stay here!”
“That’s what Remy said, and if Bastien tries to stay, Remy will take him home against his will.”
“I don’t understand why I can’t tell him I’m here.”
“Because that will put pressure on him to leave. If you’re together, there won’t be any point in staying. And he’s probably thinking about the gig in New Orleans.”
“We’ve missed that.”
“No, we’ll get home in time to fly there, play for three days, and get home and won’t miss anything. Remy and I agreed to give Bastien forty-eight hours.”
She smacked the table with both palms, and fire lit up her eyes. “I should have been part of that decision. You and Remy had no right to agree to that without my input.”
Clay swallowed hard. She was right. “I’m sorry we didn’t consider your feelings. But Remy is in charge.”
That didn’t help. The fire in Marcelle’s eyes sparked. “Who put Remy in charge? This is my brother we’re talking about. Your forty-eight-hour agreement means nothing to me. I’m going to the saloon right now.”
Clay knew they had a good plan, but in hindsight, they should have discussed it with Marcelle. Since they didn’t, he had to clean up the mess. Calmly, he said, “Remy is in charge because Elliott designated him. Remy has the last word. We all agreed to that.”
“I didn’t.”
“You want to go home, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then that makes you part of the team, and the team has a leader.”
She sighed, and her hands dropped to her lap. “What are we supposed to do while we wait?”
“Tony’s going to tell Bastien that he hired a piano player to play with him tonight. Since Tony doesn’t allow women in the bar, Sean said he and Eleanor will go with you, sit on the sidewalk, and listen to him play.”
She gaped at him. “From the sidewalk?”
“It’s that or nothing.”
“No, I can march in there and tell him it’s time to go home.”
“And ruin his chance for love?”
“With a woman he just met. I know nothing about her.” Marcelle massaged her temples. “I’ve got to see him for myself.” She sighed. “If sitting on the sidewalk is the only way I can do that, then so be it.”
“We have to give Bastien and Kaitlyn time to make a plan. We can return to Chicago, help Skye, and try to find the Robertsons. When Bastien is ready, Tony will give him the number to call you.”
“He’ll be so mad.”
“Maybe, but when he knows you’re okay, and that you wanted him to have time with Kaitlyn, he’ll understand. And remember, he knows Remy is coming for him.”
“What do you know about Kaitlyn?”
“She went to NYU, has a law degree, and is a well-known lawyer. Sean has even heard of her. I saw her picture, and she’s beautiful, with red hair and green eyes. She doesn’t play musical instruments but can hit a baseball out of the park.”
“Good. Kaitlyn’s athletic. That’s important to Bastien. What about his leg?”
“He’s struggling with balance issues, but he’s managing. Let’s give him until Saturday.”
She sat back and sighed. “Okay. If I can see Bastien from a distance, I’ll stay away until Saturday.”
Clay leaned over and kissed her. “I believe that’s the right decision.”
“He’s going to be so mad,” she said again as she reached for another biscuit and buttered it. “If we don’t need to search for him, let’s explore New York City.”
“We can start with that building across the street.”
Her eyes brightened. “What a lovely idea. I just saw an ad that the Met has a new exhibit of Alfred Stieglitz’s photographs.
You may not have heard of him, but he was renowned for his pioneering role in elevating photography to the status of fine art.
The Art Institute of Chicago has a wonderful exhibit of his work. ”
“Another interesting factoid about you.”
“The only reason I know is that I went to a fundraiser there, and I feigned interest in the photographs, so this guy following me around would get bored.”
Clay chuckled. “Did it work?”
“Yes, but I shouldn’t have done it. The guy was a sponsor.”
“So, if you drag me around the museum, I should be wary if you try introducing me to some inane art form.”
She gave him a coy smile. “As naturally curious as you are, I doubt you’d see any art form as inane.” She finished her biscuit and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “We can spend the entire day together sightseeing instead of visiting speakeasies and chasing men who resemble Bastien.”
“I like the way you think,” he teased, wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth.
Sean waltzed into the room, carrying a book and reading glasses.
“Good. I’m glad I caught both of you. Eleanor and I have a luncheon invitation and will return later this afternoon.
But we’ll accompany you tonight to hear Bastien play at McSorley’s.
She said to tell you she had clothes you could wear that would be appropriate for where we’re going. ”
“That’s sweet, but I can go by myself. I attended school here and am familiar with the city. I’ll be fine,” Marcelle said.
“Traveling unescorted around New York City might be safe in your time, but it’s not safe now, and Clay would never agree to it,” Sean said.
She gave Clay the evil eye.
“Those are the terms of the deal,” Clay said. “You’re my responsibility, as was finding Bastien. I can’t risk losing you now. Remy would kick my ass back to Mallory Plantation. So do me a favor and save my ass so I can live to sit and play piano again.”
She sighed heavily. “Ich gebe auf.”
“I accept your surrender, Frau.”
She rolled her eyes.
Sean smiled. “Do you two have plans for the day other than sniping at each other in different languages?”
“We do, actually,” she said. “We’re thinking about starting at the Met. Do you and Eleanor want to go?”
“We were there before we went to Europe. The museum has an Egyptian exhibit of photographs and fragments from the temple of Hatshepsut.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Her,” Sean said. “Hatshepsut was a female pharaoh who ruled during the New Kingdom Period, which included the Eighteenth to Twentieth Dynasties. She was the first important female ruler known to history.”
“The story must have impressed you if you remember that much.”
He held up the book he carried. “This is Budge’s Egypt, A classic 19th Century Travel Guide.
I’ll be glad to share it with you after you’ve visited the exhibition.
I purchased the quarterly Bulletin at the museum, but misplaced it on the ship.
That’s why I purchased this book in London.
You’ll enjoy the exhibit. Starting in 1906, the museum’s staff excavated hundreds of objects from her funerary temple, and they’re still adding to the collection. ”
“Sounds like a must-see exhibit,” Clay said.
“The archaeologists in the family are studying Egyptian artifacts found under Elliott’s castle in the Scottish Highlands.
I don’t know if they’ll discover anything significant.
But when they finish studying the pieces, they intend to return them to Egypt. ”
“Why don’t they donate them to the Met?” Sean asked.
“Starting in the 1950s, returning stolen artifacts or those taken by force during colonial rule or looted during a war will gain traction. In the twenty-first century, Egypt has successfully repatriated many of its artifacts. They believe the items are part of the nation’s cultural heritage.”
“So, you don’t believe the Met’s archaeologists should keep what they find?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point of going there to excavate?”
“To do research. The primary goal shouldn’t be personal gain. It should be about advancing knowledge and understanding of human history, culture, and social structures.”
“You must’ve written an article on the subject,” Marcelle teased.
“I wrote a student opinion piece trying to answer the question ‘Should Museums Return Looted Artifacts?’”
“I hope you don’t go across the street and argue with the museum staff. If you do, I’m leaving you there,” Marcelle said.
“Are you saying you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you?”
“You won’t embarrass me. I’ll just shrug and speak in French,” she said, giving him a devilish smile.
Sean chuckled. “You two sound like you’ve been together for a while.”
“Does it?” she asked. “Hmmm. I guess Clay’s rubbing off on me.”
She was certainly rubbing off on him. No, it was much more than that. He couldn’t imagine how uninspiring his days would be if she weren’t around to challenge him. “How long will it take you to get ready to go?”
“Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll gather my hat and purse and meet you at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Then I’ll spend the time thinking of ways to challenge you in different languages.”
“Watch out. I might say awful things about you.”
“‘Elle est en colère contre moi parce que je ne veux pas l’épouser.’”
She gasped, blushing. “I should’ve known you could speak French, too. What other languages do you speak?”
He mimed zipping his lips. “I’ll never tell.”
She shook her head and then pointed at him. “It works both ways, buddy.”
Then she sashayed toward the door. Her hips swayed with a rhythm all their own, a movement so fluid that Clay almost forgot to breathe.
He’d never seen anyone move like that, and it left him with nervous energy thrumming through his veins.
The question about the Richmond job had been burning a hole in his gut, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Let her get mad. He’d weather the storm.
But if taking that job wasn’t a real possibility, he needed to know now—to back off or go home with a piece of his heart missing.