Chapter 31 #4
“How’d you, Remy, and Clay find each other?” Bastien asked.
“I landed in Chicago almost three days ago. Remy and Clay found us at the Sunset Café the first night I was in town.”
Bastien stopped and pursed his lips. “Us?”
“Skye Marshall. She’s an amazing jazz singer. Wait until you hear her. Then Clay and I came here yesterday and have been looking all over for you,” Marcelle said.
“Did you know I was at Tony’s?” Bastien asked.
“We didn’t know where you were,” Clay said. “The doorman said a man matching your description stopped here and said he would come back. Was that you?”
“Yeah. That’s why we’re here now. But why’d you go to McSorley’s?”
“Remy asked me to check on him and see how he was doing, but as soon as Tony saw me, he knew I was from the future. We called Remy. Tony explained that you’d met Kaitlyn and that you were growing closer.
Our plan was to stay away and give you more time together.
We didn’t want you to rush into deciding your future. ”
Marcelle smiled. “Have you decided?”
“I’ll tell Clay before I tell you,” Bastien said, grinning.
“I never had a sibling, but I imagined if I had one, we would have been like you two,” Kaitlyn said. “I know how much Bastien loves you. Now I can see how much you love him. And by being so welcoming to me, it shows how important his happiness is to you.”
Bastien hugged Marcelle with one arm and Kaitlyn with the other. “Two extraordinary women. How’d I get so lucky?”
Marcelle shrugged. “Must be your good looks.”
“No,” Kaitlyn said. “It’s his heart.”
“You’ve only known him a few days and figured that out? That means he’s been his lovable self.” Marcelle went up on tiptoes and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”
“This place is beautiful. How’d you end up here?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Clay knew the secret password.”
“To get past the Pinkerton men?” Bastien asked.
“When Elliott was here in 1896,” Clay said, following them up the stairs, “he had the property put into a MacKlenna Family Trust that pays for the staff, taxes, and expenses. The trust maintains the property, so whenever family members are in the city, they can stay here as long as they know the password.”
“Even in the twenty-first century?” Bastien asked.
“The trust still owns it, and you still need the password,” Clay said.
“In case I need it someday, what is it?”
“Stormy,” Clay said.
Bastien tucked the password away in his mental file cabinet as he followed Marcelle. “You, Clay, and Remy aren’t off the hook. You should’ve come clean and told me you were here.”
“We’ve only known where you were for a couple of hours,” Marcelle said.
“Bastien might be upset, but I’m not,” Kaitlyn said. “I’ve heard about Remy and Patrick and all the others since I was a little girl, but never thought I’d get to meet any of you.”
“I don’t know anyone but Remy,” Marcelle said.
“You didn’t know Clay before?” Kaitlyn asked.
Marcelle paused halfway up, shaking her head. “We met when he and Remy showed up in Chicago. Remy was supposed to come with me to find you, but at the last minute, he had to stay and monitor Violet’s health.”
“Who’s she?” Bastien asked.
“My mother,” Clay growled. “She’s complicated.”
“Then why didn’t you stay?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Remy’s a paramedic,” Clay said.
“That’s what he was doing in the war,” Bastien said to Kaitlyn. “Paramedics provide emergency care outside of a hospital setting, focusing on stabilizing patients.”
“Now I understand why he could help you. It makes sense that he would stay in Chicago and send Clay with Marcelle.”
“I’m still puzzled,” Bastien said. “Why’d your mother come?”
“And my father. They traveled separately. They aren’t”—Clay made air quotes—“with us. We just ran into them.”
“How’s that even possible?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Why don’t we take this conversation off the stairs? It’ll be easier to talk in the Reception Hall,” Marcelle said.
They reached the second-floor Hall of Mirrors, which created a dazzling display of light and reflection. “This is extraordinary. It looks like the pictures I’ve seen of the Palace of Versailles,” Kaitlyn said.
“Erik Fraser designed it to resemble the Palace but on a much smaller scale,” Clay said. “It’s rumored that he stole fixtures and furnishings from the Palace, but nobody knows for sure.”
“Sounds like the family is a bunch of kleptomaniacs,” Marcelle said. “First the Met and now the Palace of Versailles.”
“It’s not indiscriminate thievery,” Clay said. “The family has a purpose and intends to return the sarcophagus to the museum.”
Kaitlyn shifted her gaze from Clay to Marcelle and back to Clay. “That’s another story I want to hear, but first, finish the one about your parents.”
“They’re cosmic travelers and could be in 3025 B.C. or 3025 A.D,” Clay said. “It’s all part of the story, and it’s complicated and will take a while to tell.”
Kaitlyn gave him an incredulous look. “I can’t wait to hear that story. But before I do anything else, I need to call my client and reschedule our appointment.”
“This way,” Clay said, leading the group down the mirrored hall. “The phone is in the Reception Hall.”
“Who was playing the piano?” Bastien asked.
“I was.” Clay pointed to the desk with the telephone. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” Kaitlyn said. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Bastien set his sax on the piano bench and noticed there was no sheet music on the music rack. “You’re the piano player Tony hired to play tonight. Were you going to spy on me for Marcelle?”
“Guilty.” Clay chuckled. “But she planned to sit on the curb with the neighborhood women and listen to our show.”
“Her?” Bastien asked, pointing at his sister. “Sit and listen to me play? Never! She would’ve interrupted just like I did a few minutes ago.” Marcelle gave her brother a playful shove, and he wobbled. “Careful, sis.”
“Sorry, but you know me too well.”
“As you know me.” He picked up her trumpet and examined it. “This has a beautiful tone. Where’d you find it?”
“At a fantastic music store in Chicago. Skye took us there. We bought two drum kits for Remy, a guitar and bass for Clay, and a trumpet for me.”
“Why’d he need two kits?”
“One to use in Skye’s music room and the other to keep at the restaurant where we were playing.”
“Time out,” Bastien said. “Did you say you got a guitar and bass for Clay? And he also plays the piano? What else?”
“That’s all I’d play in public,” Clay said. “Except for the flute.”
“He’s a multi-instrumentalist,” Marcelle said.
“Sweet. So, how’d you get the restaurant gig?”
Clay pointed across the room toward the sofa. “Why don’t we sit down, and we’ll tell you the story?”
“Does anyone want something stronger than tea?” Marcelle asked.
Kaitlyn rejoined the conversation. “I’m good for now, but Clay might need a stronger drink for all the talking he has to do.”
“It’s too early for whisky. I’ll wait,” Clay said.
Marcelle took Kaitlyn’s arm and led her to the sofa while Clay and Bastien sat across from them in the armchairs.
“The gig. How’d you get it?” Bastien repeated.
“I was playing with Skye’s band,” Marcelle said. “Al Capone—”
“Capone!” Bastien stood so fast he almost toppled over. He reached for the chair to support him. “Remy let you get involved with Capone? I’ll kill him.”
“Calm down, Bastien,” Marcelle said. “Let me tell my story.”
“It better be a good one.” He paused, his eyes settling on a silver tray laden with crystal glasses and a half-empty bottle of The Macallan.
“I’ll take that drink after all.” He strode to the tray and poured a generous measure of the amber liquid, and let the warmth spread through him before he finally nodded. “Continue.”
“Anyway,” Marcelle said. “Capone was in the house, heard us, and hired the band. It was Skye’s chance to get a record deal. She’d rescued me earlier that evening, and I couldn’t say no.”
“He’s a fucking killer, and you had no business even speaking to him,” Bastien hissed, his gaze sharpening with anger as he returned to his chair.
Kaitlyn leaned forward, her expression serious, and pinned him with a determined stare. “Bastien! Have you forgotten who my clients are?”
“No. And I don’t like either of you doing business with killers.”
“If your girlfriend is hanging out with gangsters, then stay off my case for doing what I thought I had to do. It was all for Skye. She has such an amazing voice that we wanted to reach a larger audience. And Capone has been a gentleman.”
“He’s a fucking killer, Marcelle. Of course, he can be a gentleman until he puts a gun to the back of your head.”
“We’re aware of the danger, and now we have to get back to Chicago,” Clay said. “Capone enjoyed Skye’s duets with my dad last night and wants to hear the show again. We just hope he shows up.”
“Capone or your dad?” Kaitlyn asked.
“My father.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“When you’re a cosmic traveler, you go with the stars,” Clay said with a wry smile. “Seriously, he’ll be there. But we do have to get back to Chicago.”
“It’s a long train ride,” Kaitlyn said. “Shouldn’t you leave now?”
“The brooch works in different ways. You can travel through the centuries or to the other side of town in seconds.”
“Or from here to Chicago?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Chicago, New Orleans, San Francisco,” Clay said, “but I’m not a time-traveling expert. Your rescue is only my second trip. Remy has had multiple adventures.”
“Adventures? That’s what you call them. I think I can come up with a few more descriptive terms,” Bastien said.
Kaitlyn gave Bastien a wry smile. “Has it been that bad?”
“Other than a drained battery and worrying about Marcelle, it hasn’t been bad at all.
It could’ve been a real shitstorm if I hadn’t met Tony right away.
He gave me a job and a place to sleep. The next day, I met you.
My leg got worse, but you changed my life.
” He smiled at Kaitlyn and then asked, “How about you, Marcelle? Has it been awful?”