by Angela Hayes
Faith‘s eyes grew large. “So you figure on nudging our little sister and her future husband into each other’s direction.”
“It couldn’t hurt!” I shrugged. “She’s beating around the bush and it’s exasperating.”
“What do you have in mind exactly?”
Love’s rapid footsteps interrupted any further conspiring. “Load it up girls. It’s all ours.” She sang triumphant. “We can store it at the museum and let the interns do all the cataloging and cleaning. On the job training at its finest.”
“Gee, how much did that set us back?” I snapped before I could control it.
“Five thousand now, five thousand next week with a promise to draw up a contract for what we decide to loan out to other places with a small percentage coming their way from every item. The usual.”
“Oh, that’s all.” I scolded. Immediately kicking myself for lashing out at her.
Love pinned me with one of her rare withering looks, temper flashing in her eyes. I’d forgotten how intimidating she could be when she chose it. “Hope, you are such a stick in the mud. Why are you even here? You’ve done nothing but mope the entire time. It’s killing the mood man. You know it’s a great deal. We’ll get twice the down payment amount when we rent this stuff out.”
“Girls, girls.” Faith said calmly, always the peace maker. “To your corners. Let’s fill up the Tahoe with all we can get and come back for the rest next weekend.”
“Fine.” Love agreed.
“Fine.” I gave in, biting down on my tongue hard enough to taste my own blood as I fought an inner war to keep the clawing monster inside.
No matter how happy I was for my sister- she’s found the love of her life, found so many great things to add to her museum, our museum- I couldn’t seem to halt the flow of venom quickening in my blood. It was eating me alive! Looking at Love, watching as she drifted through life after life with her happy go lucky attitude, refusing to take anything serious.
Just thinking of it I could feel the toxic sludge of jealously rushing through my veins, spreading with every beat of my heart. It’s very essence threatening tooverflow and spew out onto those around me, the ones I loved most in this world. And still I wanted to scream out, “Stop!”
Couldn’t she stop for a minute? Just stop and think about the consequences of her imprudence before she ruined us all! Ruined us like I had so many years ago.
I took a deep breath trying to stop the poison in its tracks. God how I hated myself. Why couldn’t I just let the past go? Put it where it belonged, leave it behind, bury it deep, like the one I had loved had effectively buried me. Why couldn’t I find an end to the death sentence that maimed me but never killed me? Instead I continued to let it eat away at my insides like worms feasting on a corpse. Oh how I wished I was strong enough to just let go.
I turned to grab a handful of what was now museum property. I didn’t need my sisters to see the tears of suffering I barely managed to keep in check rolling down my cheek. I didn’t want them to know my grip on the malice was lessening, that it was burning out of control. I didn’t want them to know I was losing my soul.
Chapter 19
“Matchmaker”*
Love
After loading and unloading the many newly acquired boxes at the museum for the interns to catalogue and inventory I was dog tired. Running home I grabbed a quick shower before putting in a few late hours at the library in an attempt to complete my thesis.
A forty hour work week, a buying trip, and college courses on the side all jockeyed for my free time. But I was determined to finish college, again, this life if it killed me. This morning I was thinking it just might.
I had a wall full of diplomas in my office at the museum but I couldn’t be satisfied with a degree in Arts Administration, a masters in Exhibition Design and World History could I? Oh no, I just had to add a PhD to my collection. Just a little something to fall back on when I decide to bless the next crop of college age students with my vast knowledge of yesteryear after I had grown tired of the museum business.
What I was thinking when I’d come up with and implemented this plan of mine, I wasn’t sure, but I can certainly tell you what I’m thinking now. Dissertations are a pain in the hind end! I’ve been writing this research paper on steroids for over a year now and
I’m not sure I’m any closer to finishing it than when I first started.
Just looking at all the red ink marks indicating errors and needed corrections on the latest chapter that I’d gotten back from my professor had me cursing the five person committee responsible for judging my work in every language I’d ever spoken. The bunch of tight-wad, small minded old farts! They wouldn’t know history if they lived it.
Sad part is that I’m really looking forward to becoming one of them.
I can hardly wait to do the same to some poor unsuspecting schmuck in twenty or thirty years. Payback for all the endless hours of boredom spent in front of a computer screen and in the dismal catacombs of the library searching for the perfect book I needed to prove my theory.
Advisors typically recommend that students chose their dissertation topic and field of study based on their level of intrigue and interest in said topic, hoping that curiosity will carry them through the seemingly endless monotony of the whole process. I really thought I’d picked a good one. With my major in Women and Gender Studies and a minor in Medieval Studies I’d learned a few interesting tidbits I hadn’t realized while living in that same time period. Just goes to show that after living through history, I at times failed to recognize the significance of certain events or the importance of their impact until several years later.
My problem is that it’s hard to take all I’ve recently learned, combine it will all I’ve previously lived and present it in a new way; especially when I had published a few papers written on the same topic a lifetime ago. It wouldn’t do very well to plagiarize myself now would it!
Of course not. So morning cup of coffee in hand I sat down to review the endless reams of notes that I’d spent half the night writing down, transferring them into my
computer as I went. Thankfully I had the good sense to cart home each of the books that I had taken quotes from, so that if I needed instant clarification I wouldn’t have to search for it again. Books that were currently sitting in two thick stacks by my desk- doubling as foot props.
When I was done revising all the needed changes, I’d have to get Faith to look it over for me before I turned it in; making sure that I hadn’t put anything into the paper that shouldn’t be there. Like something the history books might not even know anything about. That would mean a lot of explaining and I didn’t want to go that route.
I had just gotten in the groove when the trill ringing of the phone interrupted any further progress I might have made.
“Hello.”
“Love. It’s me.”
“Hey Hope, what’s up?”
“Listen, I hate to impose, but I really need a favor. Are you busy?”
“Just working on my dissertation. Whatcha need?”
“You know how I’ve got the singles brunch party later this morning? The musicians I hired just called and canceled on me. Food poisoning, can you believe it? I need you and Faith to fill in. Please, please, please. Everyone will be here in three hours. It’ll be a disaster if you can’t help me.”
Although Hope sounded desperate, I doubted it was truly a disaster. Hope was nothing if not a planner.
Differences aside I really do love my sister, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her… at a price. “I’d really love to, but I’ve got to get this paper done.”
“Come on Love, taking a day off won’t hurt!”
Hope didn’t have to twist my arm very hard before I caved. “Payment?”
“Anything within reason.” Hope answered so quickly I could no longer doubt her sincerity.
“One day, any day within the next three hundred and sixty four. You drop everything and come wi
th me. No complaints.” I petitioned.
“Done.”
“Really?” I was surprised, that was easy. Maybe too easy.
“Really.”
“You must be desperate.”
“I am. Be here in an hour and bring the green and gold dress we all bought last year for when we played the museum fundraiser. You can use my harp so you don’t have to haul yours in that matchbox you call a car. I already called Faith and she’s bringing her flute. You two can duet and I’d like for you to practice before everyone gets here.”
“Practice?” I scoffed, “I’ve been playing the harp for nearly twelve hundred years. If I haven’t conquered it by now, there is no hope for me.”
“Practice make perfect and I want perfection.” Hope demanded. “Be here, nine sharp.”
Wow! A whole two hours before show time. Saving all the additions before shutting down my computer, I hung up the phone. Heading off to do my hair and make-up I thought over the thousands of possibilities the future held for my day with Hope. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. All of them would involve Hope traveling out of her carefully constructed comfort zone. But only one would do, and it would be a doozy.
Chapter 20
“Matchmaker”
Hope
“You said she’d buy it.” Faith congratulated, giving me a high five from across the kitchen island.
Blowing on my nails I buffed them against my pajama shirt. “All in a nights planning.”
“How many favors did you have to call in?”
“Only a couple. I promised I’d still pay the band for their sudden day off and once I realized Chanton was Danton’s mother it was really easy. She’ll take care of getting him here.”
“I can’t believe he was at the restaurant last week, then again at The Oaks.” Faith laughed, giddy with the prospect of our baby sister falling in love again. There was no one funnier in love than our Love. What little common sense she possessed flew right out the window, making for a comical for few months until she settled down.
“There are no words. I don’t know who was more surprised, Love seeing him, or Danton seeing all of us!”
“So I guess Chanton never told her son about making use of the awe inspiring services of Hope Howard, Ellicott City’s match maker extraordinaire.”
“Guess not.” I shrugged, “I’m just glad she didn’t recognize Love when she pulled her little stunt.”
“A little stunt that might never have brought her face to face with Danton, or her to him. Whichever. Who knows? She might not have met with him at the advertising agency. He could‘ve gotten sick or something innocuous like that.”
Head in hand, I couldn‘t help but agree. Fate had always enjoyed a good laugh at our expense. Had the trio willed it, Danton and Love could have met long ago on the golf course, that Saturday night at the restaurant, during the long scheduled meeting. Any other time, but no, it had to be when Love was making a fool of herself. “You’re right.” I sighed.
“So what kind of payment do you think Love will come up with?”
“Ugh,” I turned away to slide our breakfast dishes into the dish washer. “I’m not sure, but I know I won’t like it.” Closing the door I motioned for my sister to follow me.
“Come on, let’s go get ready, the caterer will be here soon.”
“Who are you using?” Faith asked climbing the stairs.
“The Green Egg.”
“Oooh, I love their french toast.”
“Their omelets are divine.”
“Tell me about it. Think they’ll do that breakfast casserole? It’s really good too.”
Chapter 21
“Make Me a Match”
Danton
After a horrible, bewildering, perplexing, and frustratingly sleepless weekend, all I wanted was a quiet Sunday before heading into another work week. My mother apparently had other ideas.
Reading her name on the caller ID with blurry eyes, I briefly considered covering my head with my pillow and ignoring the shrill ringing of the bedside phone. It was seven thirty in the morning and I wasn’t in any shape to deal with her.
Just as quickly I nixed the idea. She would only keep calling until I answered and when I did she would pepper me with questions I’d rather not answer.
I was just chicken enough to have my mother believe that at thirty I was still waking up alone in my bed. Thank goodness today it was the truth. Imagining myself talking to my mother while I shared my bed with a woman was bad enough to have me answering the call. Unfortunately thinking of an imaginary woman in my bed lead to unwanted thoughts of a blonde headed woman with two different colored eyes. I couldn’t seem to win this morning.
“Hello Mother.”
“Danton dear, did I wake you?”
“No, I was up.” I lied, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, stifling a yawn. “Paperwork.”
“Well good. The reason I’m calling so early is that I find myself in need of a favor.”
“Sure,” I answered, not even waiting to hear what she needed it for. It was likely to be worse than anything I could conjure up.
“But dear,” She protested. “You don’t even know what it is?”
“That’s okay. I like surprises.” I lied again.
“Oh. You’re such a good son. Je t‘adore.” My mother said with such unabashed joy that I couldn’t resist miming a gun pointing at my head with my hand and pulling the thumb. “I’ll pick you up around nine. Just a light breakfast, we’ll be eating later. Oh, and be sure to wear something nice.”
“Okay.” Hanging up the phone I stared at the ceiling doing my best not to picture the horror waiting in store. Consoling Melanie, returning more gifts, tennis with mother at her club, helping number four pack his things, the list was endless.
When it got to be too much I hit the shower. But even the hot water couldn’t erase the earlier vision my mind had created of Love Howard in my bed.
Wiping the steam from the mirror brought forth an imagine of the woman herself. Her hair, pulled away from her face the same as it had when I’d first laid eyes on her. Laughing eyes that haunted me at every turn and a devilish smile I couldn’t get out of my head. Looking in the mirror, I would swear I could see her reaching out to touch my face, again, feel my cheek tingling where her real hand had met my skin, smell the scent of roses in the air.
Just days before I had been livid at the gumption that brought her sauntering into my office, offering her business up as a new client. I had every intention of tossing the folder with her presentation into the fireplace when I got home and burning it, but I couldn’t make myself do it.
Maybe it was the way I remembered her eyes briefly pleading with mine seconds before she brought Melanie’s world crashing down around us. Maybe it was the way she looked at me during our meeting as if she had something else she wanted say. For all I knew it could have been a little voice inside my head encouraging me to listen. Whatever it was, the end result was that instead of throwing the folder away, I kept it.
Sitting down I decided to thumb through the papers until my mother arrived to pick me up. It was an interesting read.
Art and Antiquities had opened its doors two years ago, shortly after Love had graduated her first go round of college. Using a large portion of the trust fund her parents had set up for her, Love had begun to lay the ground work for a new type of museum. With equal contributions from her sisters- triplets, I still couldn’t believe it- and numerous fundraisers including a talent show in which the trio themselves had played, the one of a kind museum opened to very little fanfare.
In the months that followed, thanks to hard work and dedication, Art and Antiquities began rising on the list of places to visit in Baltimore. To keep the ball rolling, Love was putting together an early anniversary exhibition and wanted to go all out for it. Her motives were clear, bring history into the now.
Flipping through the pictures of various exhibits that she included, I had a hard time linking the displays into
a cohesive unit. The ideas and themes jumped around. But as I read the printout from the museum’s website, I realized I didn’t have to, the comments from the viewers did that for me.
“… an abstract learning experience that left me enlightened.”
“If school had been this fun, I would have done better.”
“A place the kids never get tired of. Every time we visit, we always find something new.”
Closing the file I thought it was too bad that family loyalties came first. Taking care of the advertising for Art and Antiquities would have been a pretty interesting project. Love Howard certainly had a flair for the abstract and working with her was bound to cause a few fireworks.
Chapter 22
“Find Me a Find”
Love
With a quick rap on Hope’s front door I let myself in. The garment bag holding my dress and shoes thrown over my shoulder, I stooped down to shake hands with the out stretched paw of Hope’s four legged companion, the esteemed Laird Alastair Ervin Sloan of Torridon; Allie for short. A monstrous blue Great Dane, he was the current multi-title holder of numerous national and international medals among the dog show world.
“Hello Alastair and good morn’ to ya.” I greeted, my voice automatically switching to the deeply ingrained Scottish brogue that had stuck with me life after life.
I was delighted by his doggy smile and answering woof.
“Where’s your mama?”
“Up here.” Hope called from the top of the stairs.
“See ya in a bit Allie.”
Knowing Hope would be in a hurry I bounded up the stairs, my large gold earrings twinkling merrily as I untied the belt of my wrap dress with one hand. Breezing into Hope’s room I stepped out of my ballet flats, letting the dress fall into a puddle at the foot of the massive eighteenth century bed dominating her room.
Classic on a number of levels, an early Victorian era chandelier hung from the ceiling dripping with crystals. The corn flower silk curtains perfectly matched the silk duvet and were set off by the dainty hydrangea papered walls that added a touch of whimsy to the casual elegance of the room.
