When the door opened, an ocean breeze seemed to blow in.
“Afternoon,” Jeremy said.
“Hi,” she said.
He moved like the breeze, too, shaking hands with Iggy and stepping forward to stand over the prints, perfect in his shawl-collar sweater over a shirt and tie.
She inched toward him, leaning in a way that she hoped was imperceptible, and she felt him inch in her direction. They were like boats keening on complementary tides.
“You missed the florals,” Iggy said. “Should I start over?”
Jeremy turned to Laura. “Did you find anything?”
She did. She found the curve of his jaw stunning and the heat of his brown eyes overwhelming, and she missed him ten times more with him beside her again. “I put some things to the side for Saint JJ. Nothing for JSJ. And you can’t even look at what I took for Sartorial, or Ruby’s going to kill you.”
Iggy laughed, but Jeremy reached for her stack. He did it on purpose, so they could be close for that one second.
She scooped up her Sartorial prints and held them to her chest. “Back off.”
Iggy took out his last stack of prints, pushing one to the side to show the one underneath, then the next and the next. Jeremy spoke about his trip and the flight home, pulling a couple of things. While they stood side by side with their hands on the table, his pinky found hers, and she almost forgot to look at the art in front of her. When the deal was done, they had Tracy show Iggy out.
“How’s your mother?” Jeremy asked when they were alone in the conference room, door closed and locked. He stood six feet from her, jetlagged and unshaven.
“Sick, weak, and in pain.” She hated herself for being drawn to him, for wanting his hands on her, for imagining only the body under his clothes when she was talking about her mother’s discomfort.
He stepped forward. “Do you need to go see her? I can take care of things here.”
“Ruby’s there.” She moved toward him, holding out her hand.
He slid his hand into hers and pulled her a step closer. His palm was warm, and it slid out of her hand and to her cheek. He kissed her, the hair on his upper lip dragging against hers hard enough to make her wince. He pushed her against the table.
“No, you don’t,” she gasped. “It’s the middle of the day. Everyone’s here.”
“I missed you.”
“I didn’t think about you once.” But his face was in her neck, and between the pleasure of his lips and pain of the hair on his chin, she didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer.
“You need to see these factories,” he whispered. “Fortieth Street’s a sample room for these people. Their operation’s so clean, it’s scary.”
“Jeremy...”
He pulled away. “I’m sorry.” But his smile told her he wasn’t. Not really.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she said, brushing her fingertips against his cheek.
He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned against the table. “Thank you. Yes. Nice shirt, first of all. I’d like to take it off you. And we’re hemorrhaging money. You also have a mother who needs you. So you’re going half-time. And if they don’t find the dress, I’m losing a fortune on that bond. And I chewed Barry’s ass out. Didn’t bother him at all. He thinks he can try to poach you, and we can stay friends.”
“Why not? It’s just business. It’s not personal.”
“For me, business is personal. Remember?” He kissed her, but as if he felt the weight of deceit in her lips, he pulled away.
He was about to say something when there was a knock at the door. Laura opened it, relieved for the distraction. It was Tracy with her default smile hanging on the bottom half of her face.
“There’s a call for you, Laura. Jimmy something?”
“I’ll take it,” she said. Tracy left.
“It’s Mom’s new boyfriend,” Laura said. “I’m sorry. I have to see if she’s okay.”
She ran back to the office as fast as her feet would take her and snapped up her phone.
“Jimmy?”
“Hi.”
“What happened? Is she okay?”
Jeremy followed her into the office at a slower pace and closed the door behind him.
“Uh, yeah. Remember the guy from the Brunican bar? With the little moustache? Soso?”
“Yeah.”
“He was here, and he wanted to see your mother about the gown.”
“And?”
“I told him he could say whatever he wanted, but I was going to be there, and he took off. So what I’m saying is, the guy might show up at your place. I want you to be careful.”
“Okay, thanks. I appreciate it.” She hung up.
Jeremy leaned on her desk, elbows on some meaningless pattern that had seemed so important a few days ago. “What’s up?” he asked.
“I have to go.”
“Is she okay?”
“I mean I have to go downtown. Not the hospital. Mom’s fine.”
He tilted his head enough to prod her.
She wanted to answer but didn’t know where to start. “It’s just, the gown. It’s so long, the story. I don’t know how I’d catch you up.”
He snapped his jacket off the back of his chair. “You can explain on the way.”
She considered denying him because it had already been made clear that Soso wasn’t going to talk to Mom with Jimmy around, so she assumed she wasn’t going to do any better with Jeremy next to her. But what was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to tell him it wasn’t important, which he’d never believe? Or that it was personal and he should back off, which ghettoized their relationship? Or that it had nothing to do with him, which was clearly a fat lie since losing the bond for that dress was going to set him back in ways she couldn’t even fathom?
He slid his sleeves into his coat and yes, she wanted him to come, but her recalcitrance had a reason, and she named it Ego.
“Fine, but I’m in charge,” she said. “Finding stuff, solving crimes, whatever. My thing.”
“Yes, boss.” He held the door open for her.
**
They took the train downtown to give Laura an extra few minutes to explain. She needed it, because he fell into coughing fits twice on the way, clutching the pole with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.
She started with Stu telling her about Samuel Inweigh, went to Mom nearly getting arrested, then moved on to Bernard Nestor, the Iroquois, the Brunican café on Gansevoort, the heart attack, and the storage space.
He stopped her there. “You did all that? And you didn’t miss one email or meeting?”
“Of course not. I mean, not until Mom had a heart attack, then I know I missed plenty.”
“Your most loyal employee, Wendy, emailed me to let me know you got origin labels from Barry Tilden. Our competitor. Her words.”
“Yes, I did.” She didn’t feel the need to jump into an explanation or excuses. She shouldn’t have to defend herself. Instead, she set her back a little straighter, pointing her chin up a few degrees, and looked him right in the face.
“Brilliant fix,” Jeremy said. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“Last time you’ll do that.” She stroked his lapel and so wanted to rest her head on it, but the train stopped, and they had to get off.
“Just so you know,” she said as they bounded up the stairs at the station, “Soso wouldn’t talk to Mom with Jimmy around, so I don’t even know if you should come in.”
He didn’t answer until they got outside. They pulled their collars closer around their necks, and she put her hand in his pocket for warmth.
“Why don’t we do this,” he said. “I go with you, then if he wants me to leave, I’ll go wait outside. This way, he’ll think we’ll do whatever he says.”
“You’re not going to leave. I know you.”
“You’re the boss, remember?”
They walked a few blocks, sharing pockets and strides, heading to the Meat
packing District, where little meat was packed anymore. The streets got uneven, bumpy, and slippery with the condensed wetness of the December air. Multicolored lights hung over balconies and inside windows. Cheerful music dotted the street between horns honking and car alarms crying.
“This guy makes me nervous,” she said. “Head to toe leather and fur, and he probably personally killed every single animal he’s wearing.”
“You’re not inspiring me to leave you alone with him.”
“I think Soso stole the dress for the high prince, and he’s sending it back. I think it was supposed to be destroyed in the fire. And they want it, but I don’t know why. Maybe there was something sewn in there. Maybe there was some DNA in it they don’t want released. Maybe the beads were diamonds. But the one thing you’re gonna need to switch a dress like that at a museum is resources. And big companies, very rich people, and governments have those kind of resources. Regular people like Dad or Jobeth, or Mom for that matter, don’t have the connections or money for that.”
“You have no idea. Your father might.”
“Not if he’s writing notes to the children he hasn’t seen in twenty years on mothball-smelling old paper.”
Jeremy stopped and pulled her closer, kissing her in the middle of the street.
“What was that for?”
“You’re smart, and I’ll kiss you any time I damn well please.”
**
Poly Print was tending bar in a shirt that wasn’t much different from the one of two nights ago. He was a handsome guy in the light—early forties, prematurely bald with a swoosh at the top of this head, but with nice facial structure and good teeth. The café was more crowded with a non-Brunican lunchtime crowd, and Laura and Jeremy were relegated to the bar area. The presence of a big leather hat on the register told her Soso was in the house, but she decided to stop and observe before hunting him down. Since she’d verbalized what she thought was his part in the dress going missing, she didn’t want to scare him away.
Poly Print put two napkins in front of them, then tilted his head at Laura. “May the high prince reign...”
“From a high place.” She held up two fingers.
“Milk in both?” Poly asked.
She glanced at Jeremy. “Sure,” he said.
Laura watched Poly to see if he went in the back or picked up a phone. But he just got out two glasses.
“Have you been to Brunico?” Laura asked Jeremy.
“No. Only you think I’m that important.”
“A few more years, JJ, and you’re not going to be able to buy your own groceries.”
“With you by my side, maybe.”
The wine came, pale blush at the top and red on the bottom. It looked unpalatable.
“Take it slow,” she said. “It kicked me hard me the other night.”
He sipped and put on a steely grin meant to hide extreme distaste. It made her want to laugh loudly enough to attract attention. She held it in, and he glanced at her, putting down his glass.
“What did you tell Barry?” he asked.
She wanted to lie through her teeth and say she rejected the thought of working with anyone else, but he’d see right through her, and since he trusted her as a great truth-teller, a breach could be irreparable. “Nothing one way or the other.”
She looked outside to get away from his stare, which was intense, loaded with questions, and contained a little spark of something she didn’t want to see because she hadn’t earned it. It could have been anger, or hurt, or a core vulnerability, but her glance out the window ended the conversation.
“That’s Soso,” she said, pulling herself off her seat before the last “o” left her lips. The Brunican cantered across the cobblestones without a hat, leather coattails flying in the winter wind. She went after him, not running but trying not to look too excited or as if she’d tackle him in the middle of the street in order to catch him.
“Soso,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I hear you were looking for my mother?”
“Miss Lala.” His pencil moustache was disappearing behind a few days growth. His bloodshot eyes sagged as if two change purses had been sewn under them, but he stood tall. “I was.”
“Maybe I can help you?”
She felt more than saw Jeremy behind her, and Soso’s glance over her shoulder confirmed his presence. Damn him.
“I don’t think so,” Soso said. “It was nothing.” He turned and walked away.
Laura shot a glance behind her. Jeremy was there, hands in pockets and looking totally non-threatening. “Mr. Oseigh,” Laura called out, running up to him. She was going to have to take a chance and commit to a course of action. She spoke quietly. “Jeremy is the bondholder for the dress. We need to retrieve the real one, or he’s going to lose more money than most people get to count in a lifetime. It could cost him his business. Please. I have the feeling you know something about where that dress is. Tell me I’m wrong, I dare you.”
Soso seemed to consider for a moment. “I can hardly deny a challenge from a lady such as yourself. Please.” He held his hand out toward the café. “You and your friend can talk with me in my office.”
CHAPTER 15
Soso sat behind his desk and took three espresso cups from a cupboard. Poly Print brought a pot, nodded at Laura, and slipped back into the crowded front of the café. The office was as dark as night, even in the daytime, and the red-shaded lamp had to be turned on. Jeremy sat in the chair to the side and slightly behind her and leaned back, elbow on the arm in a posture that so obviously told her he had no intention of stepping on her toes that it was almost toe-treading in its intensity.
“You were an adorable little girl,” Soso said, pouring espresso. “You are a somewhat more intimidating beautiful woman.”
Flattery seemed to be the man’s default setting, so she thought nothing of it. “Thank you for the compliment. You know, I remember nothing from that time but swallowing a pin at the Scaasi studio.”
“Yes! I remember that, as well.”
“I couldn’t tell if that dress was real if I didn’t know how my mother puts things together. Those beads were sewn on all wrong. That dress is completely fake, and the Lloyd’s report is probably going to reflect that.”
“This will be a shame.”
“Unless we can find the real dress.”
“Or if we can convince Lloyd’s that the dress we have is the real one. The only person who can do that is your mother, since she had a hand in making it.” He sipped his coffee and looked at her over the cup, as if he’d just dropped the best idea in town right in their laps. “This way, your friend will get his money, and the party who tried to pass us a fake will be foiled.”
“How is that better than finding the real one?”
“Forget the real one. It’s on its way back to Brunico with the high prince, and it will be destroyed like the rest of her things. There’s nothing we can do.” He shrugged as if he wanted to do something about it but simply couldn’t.
Laura’s palms started to sweat. The dress seemed close enough to touch. He knew where it was. She just needed to choke it out of him. “So, you think by sending it back they won’t kill you?”
She heard Jeremy rustle a little bit behind her, as if he shifted his legs or arms. He probably didn’t know what she was talking about because she hadn’t told him everything about what she’d found in the files. There had just been too much information to relay in a train ride, and she hadn’t thought Soso’s hysteria about immigration officials securing his refugee status had been important to the issue of the dress.
“If he feels safe, I am safe,” Soso said. “If I show my loyalty, yes, I am sure I can return. It’s been promised.”
“Excuse my language, but the high prince is kind of an asshole.”
“If you were on Brunico, you’d be executed for that.” But Soso smiled, and she didn’t know what that meant.
“Well, we’re on Gansevoort and 9th in New York, and we don’t ex
ecute people for calling a spade a spade. So I don’t know why you’d want to go back to a tiny island, where it’s freezing freaking cold ten months a year so you can be ruled by someone you think killed your friends and who kept his wife basically locked away… for how long? And because she tried to get him out of power?”
Soso tapped his thumbs together and regarded her. “An attempt to depose a prince is quite serious.”
She felt as if she had only one chance to gain his trust. “Doesn’t that lie prove that he can’t be trusted? You’ll end up like Barnabas and Henrietta as soon as you get off the boat. And no one’s going to know you didn’t just trip and fall. Or they’ll say you committed suicide like Samuel. Or he’ll lock you away for twenty years then hunt you down when you get out, like my father. Why do you trust him?” She let a silence hang for a minute, putting a helpless, curious look on her face instead of the aggression she felt.
“You’re from New York, dear?” Soso asked.
“Manhattan.”
“And if you could never return?”
“People leave. Happens all the time.”
“Would it happen to you?”
“No.” Her honesty was abrupt, and she thought it might have cost her the conversation, but it loosened him.
He slid his chair from behind the desk and pulled a fat book from a shelf behind him. He slapped the tome on the table and opened to a seemingly random page. Jeremy leaned forward to look, and Laura was comforted that though he was quiet, he was attentive.
Soso pointed to a postcard-like photo of a beach. “This is Brunico.” A strip of sharp rocks separated a stone mansion of a hotel from the soft sand by the water. He flipped the page to show rivers and streams surrounded by craggy rocks and sheets of sticky moss, more snowcapped mountains than you could shake a stick at, and then a bridge, also stone, built with the same design eye as the hotel. The bridge spanned a wide tributary, becoming part of the landscape. She glanced at Jeremy, wondering if he noticed the similarities between the two or if he’d ever seen a less appealing vacation spot. She couldn’t read his expression.
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