Page 71 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

Oliver’s head spun, static filling his vision. He was going to pass out. Quickly, he scooted out his chair and stuck his head in between his knees. “Oh holy fuck. Oh fuck. Oh holy fuck.”

Jesse’s hands were all over him, concern laced in his voice even if Oliver couldn’t understand what he was saying over the ringing in his ears. Charlotte’s voice mixed with Luis’s and both echoed somewhere inside the void in his head.

He knew the statues had been commissioned by someone at some time, but he had never considered they’d been created by someone of significance. He never cared as a kid, that wasn’t important to him. The history behind art, behind artists, none of that had mattered then. He had understood how the muses made him feel, the security and stability their marble forms had given him. Damer’s work didn’t belong in a fucking maze out in the elements.

“Cariño, I’m going to need you to come up for air. Charlotte, can you please explain to me why my boyfriend is having a panic attack?”

“Honestly, Jesse, that Cambridge education was for more than playing rowboat and splashing around in the Thames.”

“Charlotte, for fuck’s—”

“Jesse. Language,” scolded Luis.

“Damer was one of very few famous female sculpturists of her time. She had her works featured at the Royal Academy and was praised for being a genius. She was also an author and the topic of much social commentary for enjoying the company of women. It’s even rumored that she would sculpt her lovers as the muses!” Charlotte happily sighed. “In short, she was a badass. She also, if I may be so bold to say, would absolutely be a queer icon if she had been born in this century.”

Slowly, Oliver lifted his head. “They can’t stay there. We have to move them as soon as possible. They shouldn’t be on the grounds. They need to be in a museum.”

His mind whirred, the need to scrub the marble forms earlier in the afternoon increasing tenfold. They were going to have to figure out how to move them. Maybe a crane could lift it without having to destroy the maze, but he was doubtful. The structure was too large to weave through the hedges.

“I have some contacts with the British Museum, maybe I could reach out to—”

“NO.” Jesse, Oliver, and Charlotte’s voices all combined in outraged disagreement to Luis’s suggestion.

“We’re not giving them to those fucks,” Oliver muttered.

“Oliver. Language.” Rose sat down a large pan of chips and curry in the center of the table. “You’ll not be moving the statues.”

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. “Rosie…We can’t…”

She planted her feet, her hands on her hips. “We certainly can. I’ve been listening to all this nonsense about making money for the estate, and now that we find out that we have something of worth, you’re looking to get rid of it? No. I’ll make my apologies to the people of the world for not putting them in a museum. They belong right where they are.”

Her declaration left no room for argument, but Oliver knew he’d be stewing over it for a long time until an actual decision was made.

“Alright everyone, how about we all settle down and eat, and then revisit the topic another day? The statues have been there for over two hundred years, I don’t think we need to rush to action.” Oliver watched Jesse flash Cillian a thankful smile before he joined him in passing out plates and cutlery.

“Charlotte, we will be in touch. Could you set up a call for the two of us next week? I have a project I could use your help on. Actually, how would you feel about making a trip to Chicago?” Luis had started scribbling again in his notebook as he waited for Charlotte to respond. The silence ticked on a fraction too long. “Charlotte?”

“I-uh-um. Yes. Yes, I can do that,” she replied.

“Great. Talk to you soon.” Luis hung up the phone and closed his laptop, giving his full attention to the individuals at the table.

Plates were passed around and filled, and a comfortable hush had settled in the kitchen. Oliver was content to be left to his own thoughts as he ate. The conversation had eased some of his future worries. With the Alvarezes and Charlotte on his side, he was sure he could start to turn things around, but there was still a lawsuit at hand. There was still a roof threatening to collapse.

Like he could read his mind, Luis continued, “I’m afraid we’re thinking long term when the present has more pressing items.”

Oliver pushed his half-full plate away from him, his appetite disappearing in an instant. “Parents or roof?”

“Charles and Patricia. I don’t have particularly pleasant memories of them from the last time we were here. They were the reason we ultimately left in such haste. Your father actually threatened to fight me right there in the study. I didn’t want to bring it up to you over the phone, it didn’t feel right to speak negatively of your parents. But from what Jesse has shared with me, it doesn’t sound like they’ve become any more tolerable.”

Thudding his head against the table, Oliver let out a frustrated groan. Dutifully, Jesse’s hand rubbed soothing circles across his upper back.

Cillian got up and went to one of the pantries, returning with a bottle of whiskey that he sat in the middle of the table. Rose was the first to fill her glass, handing the bottle to Luis afterwards. He guessed everyone was ready to move to the liquid course of that night’s dinner. “You know, I’ve never liked them,” she said.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “What happened to, I won’t speak ill of them?”

Rose took a sip of her whiskey, her eyebrow lifted in a challenge, and Oliver quickly conceded.

Luis, instead of pouring himself a glass, filled Oliver’s. “With your permission, I’d like to have a discussion with Barnaby Stillwell. Get familiar with the particulars of their lawsuit.”