“No!” She flew back toward the gate, realizing her sisters must be waiting for her in this drenching downpour.
At first all she saw was umbrellas. Then she could make out the guard holding a huge green umbrella over Diana. He was gazing at her as men often did, like she must be some ethereal creature come to life whom he needed to protect. In reality Diana was the most resilient of them all. The last to complain. The last to give up.
Beside the guard, Venus held a glorious red Tiffany glass–inspired, oversized umbrella. Athena could hear her arguing with the guard, like a Greek Fury.
“I’m here,” Athena shouted, breathless and soaked to the skin.
“Thank you so much.” Diana smiled and moved away.
The guard visibly wilted. “You’re leaving?” he asked, looking at all of them with dazed eyes.
“Yes. My sister is here now. Bye,” Diana waved.
Venus grabbed her arm, pulling her under the enormous Tiffany umbrella, and Athena huddled on the other side.
“It’s about time. We’re soaked.” Venus sighed. “Diana had the guard nearly talked into letting us into the clubhouse to wait in comfort. We were in time to save you, right?”
Athena gave one shaky little laugh. “Yes. Definitely saved by the proverbial bell.”
CHAPTER
Since yesterday, excitement vibrated around her. This Monday morning the museum glistened, sandblasted by Chicago’s July sun, and the lobby hummed with tourists pouring in.
Leonard’s “Good morning, Miss Smith,” sounded crisper, brightening her day even more than usual. She floated up the marble staircase and into her office.
Edna Keene turned from talking to Makayla and frowned.
Okay, so maybe happiness isn’t contagious.
Athena refused to be daunted. “Welcome back, Edna. Isn’t it a glorious day?”
“Without a doubt,” she sniffed. “I wouldn’t miss our staff meeting this afternoon. You’ve been a busy bee while I’ve been away.”
It didn’t sound like a compliment. Athena lifted her chin, waiting for the next shoe to drop. She’d handle it. At last she truly felt like Athena the wise.
“Well, Athena, I’ve come to tell you that since you acquired the two Bertha Palmer gowns, the museum board has given the green light for your new exhibit and three trustees have called to renew their support of the scholarship fund.”
Drew kept his promise.
Overfilling with warm, tingling joy and excitement, Athena beamed at Makayla. Now all her dreams could come true. “I’m delighted. I hope you are, too, Edna.”
Even Edna’s deep sigh couldn’t faze Athena today.
“I’ve always admired your tenacity.”
Then why do you always give me a hard time?
“Will you throw your full support to this?” she asked, hoping for the best.
“We’ll see.” Edna glanced toward Makayla, who had gone to work in the corner library nook to give them a semblance of privacy. “You know, I was once a gifted intern here myself.”
On that cryptic note, she stalked from the room.
Athena did want happiness to be contagious. The world would be better for it. All at once, she was wise enough to know how to help Edna.
Athena laughed. “I think Edna gives us a hard time because she’d like to be more involved with the collection, instead of being upstairs, juggling the budget. If only we could find Bertha’s last two dresses, we could give her a little dose of truth serum. It might be just what she needs to seize what she really wants.”
Makayla giggled. “Awesome idea. Do you think you and Mr. Clayworth will find them soon? I mean, is it hard, like, to be with him because of, you know, the old BFF thing?”
She shook her head, refusing to give in to doubt. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll find them soon. Mr. Clayworth and I have come to a meeting of the minds.”
I wish it were our bodies.
With great difficulty, she kept her voice neutral, or at least as calm as possible considering her desire to be whispering into his ear, murmuring against his warm mouth, and nibbling on his full lower lip right this minute.
The minute Drew strolled into the flagship John Clayworth and Company store, which took up a square city block in Chicago’s Loop, he felt its beat. This would always be the living heart of the chain.
By day, the first floor’s wide aisles, pillars, and curved glass counters glowed from the chandeliers and the light from the Tiffany dome ceiling six floors above.
With time to spare before his meeting with Connor, he made his way through the Food Hall, a series of large, long rooms flowing one into the other through wide arches.
He stopped at the Confectionery Department’s marble countertop to buy Clayworth Chocolate Mints.
Janette smiled at him. “Hello, Mr. Clayworth. Your usual?”
Nothing’s usual about today.
He grinned at her. “Throw in an extra box today. Thanks, Janette.” Athena had always loved these. The vision of feeding them to her one by one, licking the chocolate off her lips, taunted him.
Janette stacked up five boxes of almond-flavored chocolate mints, and he laid the exact amount of money on the counter.
She looked down at the pile of bills and up at him. “I remember when you could barely see over this counter and you paid me in pennies.”
“Yeah, now it’s dollars.” He laughed. “Times have changed.”
“Thank goodness, not at Clayworth’s,” she said, pride ringing loud and clear in her voice.
It never will if I have anything to say about it.
“You’re right, Janette. We’re still the same. The customer must be pleased,” he said, repeating the store’s motto. “And I always am. Thanks.”
To work off his excess energy, his frustration at having to wait to see Athena, he walked up the wide staircase instead of taking the elevator to the ninth-floor executive offices.
On the seventh floor he stopped and looked toward the Maple Room. A long line of customers waiting to be seated for lunch stretched out the door.
Drawn to it, he stood off to the side and peered through the wide opening into the paneled room with the blue carpet symbolic of Clayworth’s.
Today the restaurant teemed with parents and kids off for summer break. Seeing it full of families reminded him of Christmas and the Chicago tradition of having breakfast with Santa under Clayworth’s giant tree.
His family tradition to invite store executives, their partners, and their children to be the first to see the fully decorated tree the night before it opened to the public brought a memory he’d buried long ago. Now he could let it out, savor it.
He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and smiled, thinking about the first time he’d seen Athena after being gone for nearly eighteen months at prep school and two summers sailing with his parents in preparation for the Fastnet.
That night he walked into the Maple Room and saw her, hair shining, eyes wide, full mouth curled laughing with her sisters, and she’d looked up at him, and his teenage libido had gone on testosterone overload.
A month away from her seventeenth birthday, she’d grown up.
His best friend, his confidante, became the object of his desire.
Christ, his gut ached, remembering.
His personal code of honor set up the boundaries. A year of memories. The year he lost his parents. The year he fell in love with Athena Smith.
He straightened, his shoulders rigid. Last night he’d never felt closer to anyone. Yet he hadn’t told her about finally sailing his own Fastnet to banish the last of his guilt and regret. Find closure. Why? For the same reason he hadn’t wanted to discuss her dad? Fear. Fear of losing her again.