Vivian startles, bumping her head against the desk ledge.Christ. It’s Michael.
“No,” she says, rubbing her head. “I…I was just looking at this piece. I had a similar one in my store a few years ago.”
“I see. What was that clicking noise? Did you just pop back in one of the drawers?” he asks, moving closer to the desk. He has an odd look on his face.
“No.” She’s such an idiot. The last person she should be alerting to the fact that there may be furniture with secret compartments lying around in the Knox is Michael. He has genuine interest in antiques and will now likely finish her hunt through the house for her.
He puckers his brow, running his fingers along the surface of the drawers. He has nice hands, she notices in spite of herself. Long, slender. Like an artisan’s hands. On his finger is the brass ring he always seems to wear, which is embossed with a top hat and flower. The Knox symbol.
“Well, yes, actually, I did pull out a drawer,” she says now.Better to come up with some sort of excuse.“I wanted to see if the drawers were dovetailed, and they are.” She shows him, pulling a random drawer completely out of its socket to illustrate the puzzle piece ends of the wood joints. “This is one of the strongest joints in carpentry.”
“Very cool,” he says, smiling. “They don’t make furniture quite the same anymore.”
“No, they don’t. This type of joint predates written history. The ancient Egyptians used it four thousand years ago.”
“Fascinating,” he murmurs.
A couple from the restaurant spills into the hall, arms wrapped around each other. Vivian becomes acutely aware of the time. “Anyway, I should get back to Peter.”
“Speaking of Peter and history, have you told him yet aboutyourfamily history?”
“Wh…what do you mean?”
“You don’t remember telling me?”
“No. I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”
“The very first time I came by your store to purchase an antique, the nineteenth-century globe from Charles Smith and Son—which, by the way, you may have noticed is in the parlor—we had a conversation about the outdated names depicted on maps and globes.”
“I remember.”
“And you said, on some maps, the islands east of Tahiti used to be called ‘Dangerous Islands.’ ”
“Right.”
“And you said it was called this because of the dangerous currents and high reefs, making it a wrecking ground for ships. And I said, ‘Oh, and here I thought they just wanted unwanted visitors to stay away.’ ”
She remembers this. And she remembers how, at the time, she was trying to figure out his intentions. She’d never had a new customer walk in ready to drop sixty grand on a single antique.
“And then I said I was from the Knox, and you said…” He lowers his voice, leaning closer to her. “You said you were kind of an unwanted visitor there. Or at least that one of your ancestors had been.”
“I don’t recall saying that,” she says. But something about it feels vaguely familiar. Perhaps she had indeed made an offhandcomment like that. An attempt to connect with an obviously wealthy customer.
“Maybe I misremembered,” he says with a shrug. “Anyway, don’t forget this.” He picks up her hairpin from the surface of the secretary and hands it to her. His expression is unreadable, but she can only guess what he’s thinking.
The Knox
February
Oh, Vivian. I see you are up to your old tricks, taking the liberty of riffling through my furniture. (What in geomancy’s name are you searching for?) As I have said before, I do not take kindly to unwanted scrutiny—nor do the members.
There is no shortage of watchful eyes tonight. You simply picked the wrong time to nose about. It is an evening ofconsiderableimportance for the society, and I am sorry to say that your little forays do not rate.
Rather, I am not sorry in the slightest.
I advise you to sit back and buckle up your corset or Hermès belt or whatever garment it is that you ladies now favor. Because things will shortly becomeveryinteresting.
Oh—and that note Xavier set aside for you in my mailbox? You cannot just discard the note in my water closet, flush it away in hopes its message will disappear. It is not that simple.
