Page 47 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

Her opinion on Oliver’s situation remained the same as it had when he first told her he suspected something was wrong with the house. No amount of furniture sales were going to solve his money problems. She remained adamant that Oliver needed another plan, and if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason, then Jesse should ignore him and do it anyway. Oliver’s flat out refusal to explore other options was an inconsequential hurdle.

Jesse tossed and turned over it all night.

By the time the morning came, he hadn’t made a decision, planning to try and discuss it further with Oliver, maybe on their drive. But the sight of him already stressed and overwhelmed convinced him to put his plans on the backburner. He’d try again another time.

Two and a half hours later, they were in the city proper, crawling through the crowded streets of Soho. “You know I know where we’re going, yes?” Oliver asked, a pleased smile on his face.

Jesse winced. “Fine. I will admit that this date was poorly planned, but I like to think of it as spontaneous. I would appreciate any fake enthusiasm you’re able to muster up.”

“I won’t have to fake anything. I haven’t been in here in ages,” Oliver replied.

Their car rolled to a stop in front of Trafalgar Square, every inch crawling with tourists on a beautiful Saturday with no rain. They drove along the side streets near the museum until they found a place to park, and Jesse eagerly took Oliver’s hand as they walked past Nelson’s Column and towards the entrance of the National Gallery.

Jesse paid for a map once they got inside, and was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of rooms in the building. He glanced up at Oliver who was watching him with a small smirk.

“I didn’t need to buy this, did I?” Jesse asked. Oliver bit his lip to keep from smiling. “You know exactly where we’re going, don’t you?”

“I mean, I have my favorites,” Oliver replied.

Jesse carefully folded up the map and tucked it in his back pocket. Jesse hooked a finger in the belt loop of Oliver’s trousers, and Oliver came to him willingly.

The ensuing kiss was slow and unhurried, bordering on inappropriate in the middle of the museum lobby surrounded by tourists. Jesse knew he should stop, knew he might embarrass Oliver, but until Oliver broke their kiss, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Ultimately, it was the harrumph of an elderly woman nearby who encouraged their kiss to come to an end. Jesse ran his thumb lovingly over the blush that had spread across Oliver’s cheeks. Taking Oliver’s hand again, he idly noted the paint under his fingernails and smiled. “Lead the way.”

They made their way up the stairs and wandered through the individual galleries. While Oliver was distracted by the paintings, Jesse found himself drawn more towards the design of the museum itself. Each gallery was painted a different color, rich blues and burgundies, the windowed ceilings framed by gilded arches and frosted with images of suns and stars.

Jesse’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out to quickly check the message. Seeing it was from Charlotte, he excused himself and found a seat on a wooden bench near the other end of the gallery.

Charlotte: No luck yet on the furniture, but I’ll keep reaching out to my contacts. Have you talked to him yet?

Jesse: Thanks for looking, and no…..

Jesse: He was having a bad morning. I’ll bring it up later.

Charlotte’s response was rapid.

Charlotte: Your stalling isn’t helping anyone. You’ve managed to earn a grand in book sales, and you’re lucky you found that Tiffany lamp, because that will get you maybe twenty grand. That’s nothing compared to what he needs to furnish that roof.

Jesse: You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.

Charlotte: Start thinking up an alternative plan. He’ll thank you when he’s not homeless.

He swallowed back his disappointment. If Charlotte wasn’t having luck finding buyers for the furniture, he wouldn’t fare any better.

Jesse had peeked in the remaining rooms upstairs, hoping to find another hidden gem, but all he found was storage and more furniture. They had gotten lucky in the lamp-filled Uncle Albert room.

He texted her back, thanking her for trying, and on a whim decided to throw in their plans for that evening. He didn’t think she’d show, but it didn’t hurt to invite her.

Oliver had stopped in front of a painting closer to where Jesse was sitting. The picture depicted a man strung up on a tree, his body littered and punctuated by arrows. There was a small frown on Oliver’s face as he studied it and as Jesse studied him. The painting didn’t hold a candle to the man staring up at it.

“Who is that?” Jesse asked, returning to Oliver’s side.

Oliver took his hand once he was within reach. “Ah, the Cambridge boy doesn’t know his early Christian martyrs, I see.”

Jesse laughed and bumped Oliver’s shoulder with his own. “You’ve got me there.”

“It’s Saint Sebastian. Fitting for us, really.” Oliver dragged him along before he could ask why. “Come on, let’s go fight the tourists for a chance to glimpse one of the Monets, and then we need to pay our respects to Lady Jane before we leave.”