by Kris Tualla
Sveyn did as asked, his expression curious. When Hollis stood next to him, her five-feet-six-inches fell short of the task.
“Let me get a chair.”
With the assistance of a wooden seat from the dinette set, and instructions to Sveyn to stand up straight, Hollis marked the man’s height on the wall. She pushed the end of the metal tape down to the carpet, and pulled it to the mark.
“Let me see your boot heels,” she instructed.
Sveyn lifted one foot.
“What is that, an inch do you think?”
He set his foot down. “Possibly.”
“In that case, you are six feet, five and one-half inches tall.” She climbed down from the chair and retracted the tape. “That’s impressive. Tall men are seen as more capable and intelligent, did you know that? That’s why the average height of our presidents is two inches taller than the average height of the male population in their lifetime.”
Sveyn chuckled. “Do you realize how much information you have in your head?”
Hollis rolled her eyes and went to put the measuring tape and pencil away. “Yes, I do. Thankfully, some of it’s actually useful.”
He looked puzzled. “Is not all information useful?”
She looked up from the junk drawer. “Not the lyrics from decades-old television shows. Don’t need them, but can’t forget them.” She shoved the draw closed with a rattling bang.
The Viking appeared to be pondering her words as he settled back on the couch. “There is so much to know, now.”
“The sheer volume of information available to anyone is really overwhelming,” Hollis said as she reclaimed her seat. “Luckily, we don’t have to know it all—only where to find it all when we need it.”
“On your computer. On the internet,” Sveyn recited. He looked into her eyes. “So my height makes me handsome?”
“And your muscles.” Hollis’s fingers tingled with the impotent desire to feel the bulges and valleys of his arms and chest. “You were obviously very strong.”
He nodded his understanding. “Tall and strong then.”
“Not only that. You have beautiful blue eyes. And dark, thick lashes.” She gave him a shy smile. “I love looking at them.”
The Viking seemed entranced. “What else?” he asked softly.
“You have strong, masculine features. Your nose, your jaw, your cheekbones.”
Sveyn touched his nose. “It is not too big?”
“No, it fits your face.” Hollis smiled. “And I love your scruffy beard.”
“Ach!” Sveyn grunted, moving his hand to his chin. “I wish I had shaved that day.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Your beard gives you a rugged look.” Hollis’s eyes twinkled. “Women in this century love a man with a rugged, outdoorsy look to them.”
Sveyn grinned. “I see many men now who I do not believe could even fell a tree.”
“That, my friend, is very true. But in their defense, tree-felling is seldom required of them.” Hollis waved her hand in the vague direction of the condo complex’s workout room. “So they lift weights and run on treadmills.”
The Viking’s expression went blank. “What is that?”
Hollis yawned. “I’ll show you tomorrow. It’s late and this night has been exhausting.”
Sveyn nodded. “Will you turn on the history channel? I saw one of those short films which said there is a show about Vikings.”
“Sure.” Hollis reached for the remote. “Let me pull it up and you can watch all the past episodes.” She searched through the on-demand programming, found the series, and selected play all.
She dropped the remote on the coffee table. “You can tell me what you think after you see it.”
“I shall.”
Hollis stood, and Sveyn did as well. He looked down into her eyes, his newly expressed feelings shining in his.
“Sleep well, Hollis. I will see you in the morning.”
The urge to kiss him both excited and depressed her. “I hope so.”
Sveyn shook his head a little. “I am not going anywhere. At least, not this night.”
He kissed his fingertips and held them out in front of him. Hollis kissed her fingers, and aligned them with his. The electric-feeling tingle was still there.
She smiled. “Good night, Sveyn.”
Monday
September 14
After a relaxing Sunday, spent lounging on the couch with Sveyn, eating pizza and garlic bread, watching television, and finishing off a new bottle of red zinfandel, Monday was an unpleasant intrusion.
“It’s a good thing I love my job,” Hollis grumbled to Sveyn as she started her car.
“Will we go to the hoard today?”
She shook her head. “Today is the first day we need to post our Object of the Week. I need to start taking pictures of the items we want to put up on the site, and write the blurbs.”
Sveyn’s brow wrinkled. “Blurbs?”
“Interesting paragraphs about the item. They are supposed to entice the person to want to know more.”
The drive to the museum was quiet after that, and the coffee at the office necessarily strong.
“Can we please start with the Jane Austen?” Stevie begged. “I’ve already contacted the local JASNA group and promised I’d send the link. They are very excited.”
“I don’t see why not.” Hollis looked over the list of items which they brought back last week. “Maybe next week we can put up the Viking sunstone.”
“Great.” Stevie’s eye rounded. “What about that weird thing you found for the Mystery Item of the Week?”
“Well, we do know what it is. So it’s not a true mystery item,” Hollis observed.
“I suppose you’re right.” Stevie pursed her lips, her oversized coffee cup gripped with both hands.
Hollis opened a drawer to get the museum’s camera. “For now, let’s decide where and how we’ll take the pictures.”
Miranda, however, overruled her without hesitating. “That Blessing thing is definitely going to be our first mystery item. It’s entirely too intriguing.”
“So, I have to play dumb in the blurb?” That pricked Hollis’s pride.
“Not too dumb.” Miranda gave her a conspiratorial smile. “You can say it’s probably Norse, and that a piece seems to be missing.”
Hollis guessed she could live with that. While she and Stevie were setting up the photos, Stevie asked about her two MatchPoint dates.
Hollis glanced toward Sveyn, sitting about ten feet away and watching their efforts with interest. “The Friday guy, Chad, was pretty.”
“Ooh!” Stevie giggled. “Do tell.”
“And pretty much into himself.”
Stevie shot her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”
Hollis shrugged and adjusted one of the lamps shining on the signed copy of Mansfield Park. “It made for an early evening.”
Stevie stepped back from the table which was the set for their photographs. “Do you want the fabric draped or flat?”
“Let me take a couple shots and see how it looks draped.” As Hollis snapped the shutter, the photos appeared on the nearby computer screen. She nodded. “I like it. It fits Jane.”
“Such elegance will not go well with that evil thing you found,” Sveyn warned.
Hollis glanced briefly in his direction. “I don’t think we should be so elegant with the mystery items, though. That might be inappropriate, once we know their purpose.”
Stevie snickered. “Like some horrid torture device? Or a growth cut from a deformed person?”
Hollis laughed at that. Even Sveyn chuckled.
“Gross, Stevie!” Hollis wrinkled her nose. “If we find something like that, I will not add it to the collection.”
“Just checking. It would be my job to catalog it, so I’m fine with that.” Stevie flashed an impish grin, a designation which was appropriate for her petite size. “So—what about your date on Saturday?”
“His name was Ge
orge. And he was very nice.” Hollis turned her back on Sveyn, in case she accidently caught his eye. The way Saturday night played out couldn’t be truthfully explained, and she couldn’t risk being distracted by the Viking.
“Will you see him again?” Stevie’s optimism shone like a neon sign.
Hollis looked through the camera’s viewfinder to hide her face. She didn’t want to let Stevie notice her discomfort. “I hope so.”
She snapped three shots, and then looked at the screen. “These are turning out nicely.”
Stevie set her fists on her hips. “What did you do?”
Hollis looked at the little display on the back of the digital camera, not meeting her registrar’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
Stevie laid a flattened palm over the display so Hollis was forced to look at her. “Why do you only ‘hope so’? What went wrong?”
Hollis sighed, deciding how to spin this. “I was a little distracted, and I think that might have put him off.”
“Distracted by what?”
Sveyn cleared his throat behind her. Since the man had absolutely no possibility of phlegm, he was clearly making that noise to bug her.
“Well—”
He did it again.
Hollis turned toward him, ostensibly to set the camera down, but really to glare at him.
“Tell her that he was a lawyer, and you felt as if you were being interrogated.”
Hollis sighed, and faced Stevie again. Sveyn’s suggestion was an irritatingly good one. “George’s a lawyer, so sometimes his questions felt like he was gathering evidence. I found myself over-thinking my answers, so I know I sounded like I was pleading my case.”
The first three words and the last five words were true.
The rest was just filler.
Stevie made a little pout. “That’s too bad. Maybe your next date will be more relaxed.”
“If he calls.”
“No, no.” Stevie wagged a finger at her. “You call him. Tell him you had a nice time. Toss the ball clearly into his court.”
“I don’t know…” She really didn’t.
“This is why you’re still single, Hollis. We have to let guys today know that we’re interested.” Stevie’s brows pulled together. “Are you?”
Chapter Twelve
Hollis stared at her phone. Her mouth had gone dry.
Just call him.
She straightened the just-in-case script on her desk and glanced at the closed office door. Sveyn was waiting somewhere in the hall.
She could never make this call if he was listening, or worse, watching, so she sent him away. Normal relationships had space; this twenty-four-seven thing was proving exhausting.
The Viking left without argument, but his scowl said enough about how he felt about being banished.
Hollis turned her phone on and swiped the code to unlock it. She couldn’t decide if she wanted George to pick up, or if she would rather recite her scripted words. Either way, it was time to pull up her lacy big girl thong and dial.
“Hello—”
Hollis drew a breath and opened her mouth.
“—you have reached George Oswald.”
She blew out the breath.
“I am unable to answer my phone, so leave a detailed message after the beep, and I will return your call in a timely manner.”
Beeeeep.
“Hi, George. It’s Hollis. McKenna.” Jeez, loosen up. Be breezy. “I just wanted to let you that I did enjoy meeting you Saturday night.”
Hollis stared at her script, and decided to wing it. “I know we got off to an awkward start, but I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to redeem myself. Call me.”
She recited her cell number and hung up. Her hands were sweaty.
Someone knocked on her door. At least she knew it wasn’t Sveyn. “Come in.”
Stevie opened the door. “Did you call him?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Hollis dried her palms on her slacks. “Left a message.”
Stevie smiled. “Good for you. Now come with me. Miranda wants to see us.”
*****
Miranda waved the pair into the office. “Ladies, these photos are amazing! Mr. Benton is thrilled. Thrilled.”
Well, one thing was going right today.
Hopefully it’s just the beginning.
“Now that the next four weeks of objects are approved…” Hollis glanced at Stevie. “We’ll begin on the mystery items.”
“We have fewer of those,” Stevie grinned and jerked her thumb in Hollis’s direction. “Thanks to Miss I-Can-Research-Anything over here.”
“As I said before, we don’t have to reveal everything we know.” Miranda winked at Hollis. “We do need to give people the chance to win those memberships.”
Stevie clapped her hands. “When will the post go up?”
Miranda turned her computer screen around. “It already has.”
The curator’s phone buzzed. “Yes?”
“The president of the Arizona Jane Austen Society is on the phone for you. Line two.”
“I’ll take it.” Miranda’s cheeks split wide in her toothy grin. “And so it begins.”
*****
Sveyn followed Hollis and Stevie down the hall. He heard her tell Stevie about leaving a message for George, and had been hovering nearby ever since. He obviously knew that asking her about it in Stevie’s presence would do him no good, but his eagerness to do so was palpable.
“Let’s photograph that Blessing thing now, while everything is set up,” Stevie suggested. “Then I’ll spend the rest of the day logging in what we brought back last week. Maybe find another mystery item in the stash.”
Hollis caught the shift in Sveyn’s expression, from eager curiosity to uneasy caution.
He really thinks that icon has power.
“Good idea, Stevie. I’ll go get it.” Hollis continued down the hall toward the collections storeroom while Stevie entered the unused office that had become their impromptu photography studio.
“Have a care, Hollis,” Sveyn said over her shoulder. “You do not know what that thing can do.”
Hollis waited until she was inside the cavernous, climate-controlled storage room to answer him. “You said someone has to possess it for it to drive them insane, right?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Hollis walked down one of the tightly packed aisles. “As long as it remains at the museum, then no one person can possess it.” She turned to face the Viking. “Am I right?”
Sveyn’s concerned was still evident, though he answered in the affirmative. “That does make sense.”
“And,” she continued as she retrieved the icon. “I assume the insanity does not happen overnight. It would take time, wouldn’t it?”
“I wish you would wear gloves,” he countered.
“I will, if it makes you feel better.” Hollis retraced her path toward the door. “But answer my question.”
He pulled his eyes from the object. “I cannot say for certain. All the legend says is that it drives the owner insane.”
“To drive anything implies movement in that direction.” Hollis shrugged to dispel her own burgeoning, and totally ridiculous, misgivings. “I won’t handle it long enough for it to affect me, even if that story is true.”
She opened the door to the hall. “And as soon as I finish taking the pictures, I’ll lock it back up.”
“And you will get your gloves,” Sveyn pressed.
“Yes, I promise.”
*****
“Why are you wearing those?” Stevie asked.
Hollis pulled off the white cotton gloves after she arranged the icon on a flat piece of fabric; she couldn’t manage the camera well with them on. “Just a precaution. We don’t know how old or fragile this is.”
“Several thousand years,” Sveyn muttered. “And it cannot be destroyed.”
Hollis shot him an irritated glance.
Stevie frowned. “You don’t believe
that story, do you?”
“About driving the owner insane?” Hollis coughed a dry laugh. “No. But even if I did, I don’t own this.”
Stevie adjusted the lamps. “Let’s just take the pictures and get it put away. It creeps me out.”
Hollis shot several photos while Sveyn watched them pop up on the computer screen.
“You will want to show this side of the thing. Right here.” He tapped the image. “This is where it connects to its other half.”
Hollis looked at the photo, then examined the object. “Yes, I can see that.”
“See what?” Stevie asked.
Hollis acted as if speaking her thoughts aloud was normal.
For me.
“Right here is where it attaches to the missing part. I need to make sure that can be seen in the photo.”
Stevie leaned forward. “Huh. Didn’t notice that. But I think you’re right.”
Hollis bent over and zoomed in a little. “This should do it, don’t you think?”
“Perfect,” Sveyn answered her. “Well done.”
“Thanks. I mean, right?” Hollis straightened and turned to Stevie with a bright, and hopefully distracting, smile. “Finished.”
*****
George was calling.
Hollis was back in her office when the man’s profile picture and cell number appeared on her phone. Both elated and terrified, she shooed Sveyn from the room before she tapped the green icon on her screen.
“Hi, George.” She tried to sound breezy again. Friendly, but not over the top. Calm.
“Hi, Hollis. I got your message.”
She smiled, though he couldn’t see her. “Thank you for calling me back.”
“Well, I didn’t want to just disappear.”
Her heart gave a painful thump. “Oh. I see.”
“You are a beautiful woman, obviously intelligent, and I am sure you have great qualities…” His voice trailed off.
“But?” she offered him the out.
“But you seemed, I don’t know, distracted. All evening. Like your attention was somewhere else, and not with me.”
Because it was.
