If exposed, would others react like I did? Shout their secret feelings to the world?
Feelings about Drew she’d thought long dead and buried under time and maturity.
Now she needed to push all her personal feelings aside for the greater good.
And the greater good for the museum, for Chicago, came miraculously presented to her on the proverbial Clayworth, rimmed-in-real-gold-and-sterling-silver, platter.
She pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Since I’m the expert on the dresses and know most of the serious collectors, I can help find them. And when I do, I want them for the exhibit at the museum.”
This time he lowered his lids so she couldn’t read his eyes. “Since Clayworth’s was founded, it has been our policy never to loan out certain family treasures. The dresses fall under that category.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
Their eyes met and clashed. “What’s your proposition, Athena?”
Refusing to be cowed by Clayworth tradition, she lifted her chin. “I propose that we forget our personal feelings. Temporarily,” she amended. “We forget everything that might have transpired between us in this hospital because of conditions beyond our control. And we work together to find the dresses, and then, as a gesture of civic goodwill, you allow them to be displayed at the museum as an important piece of our Founding Families Exhibit.”
At last a flicker of genuine emotion he didn’t try to hide, amusement of all things, lit his eyes.
“You’ve got a deal, partner.”
His words rang in her ears, making her feel dizzy again. Obviously her world still beat to a different drummer than usual, or she wouldn’t have just agreed to work shoulder to shoulder with the enemy.
CHAPTER
The phone started ringing on the oak chest beside Athena’s four-poster bed, disturbing her beloved Drusilla Junior curled as usual along her right hip. Weak light filtered around the lace curtains at her bedroom window. Awake, but still groggy from “sleeping it off,” as Dr. Stemmer put it, she slowly fought through her pile of fluffy pillows to reach out and pick up the phone on the fourth ring.
Drew? Her partner? The thought made her stomach growl.
No, no, she knew who it would be. Since she’d won the battle with her sisters to stay alone in her own bed, in her little piece of peace, her restored Lincoln Park carriage house, she’d expected them to check up on her at dawn.
“I love you for caring so much, but I’m just fine,” she said briskly into the phone.
“Certainly I’m pleased to hear it. When you failed to attend our meeting on Friday afternoon after you insisted on scheduling it, all I could get out of Makayla was that you had gone to the ER with a headache.”
The exasperated tone of Edna Keene, deputy director of the museum, sounded all too familiar. Athena sent a silent thanks to Makayla for keeping her secret as they had all sworn to do until further notice, even with Edna breathing down her neck.
Consumed with worry over Bertha’s missing dresses, Athena had let her meeting with Edna simply vanish from memory. Now it came rushing back with all its importance.
“Athena, are you still there?” Edna asked, a new irritation in her voice.
A little edge of panic made Athena fling back the covers, drop down on the cool wood floor, and begin to pace. “Yes, I’m here, just a little groggy.” She needed to go eyeball to eyeball with Edna. Needed to convince her and the board to continue her dad’s efforts to establish a scholarship fund. They needed to give her the green light on the exhibit.
She chose her words carefully. “I’m really sorry about the meeting. It was unavoidable. Could we please reschedule for Monday?”
“I’m in the Red Carpet Room at O’Hare. My flight to Paris leaves in ninety minutes. It will have to wait until I return from the conference in two weeks.”
Athena stood rooted to a spot in front of the small brick fireplace. “Another two weeks? You stopped my work on the exhibit weeks ago. There’s barely time now to complete the exhibit and plan the black tie opening.”
Edna’s heavy sigh sent an icy chill from Athena’s curling toes to her scorching cheeks.
“Athena, I told you, since your father resigned as a trustee, enthusiasm for expanding the Chicago Founding Families Exhibit and establishing a scholarship fund has waned on the board.”
“And I told you I’d find the funding myself,” she snapped back, fighting off the beginnings of another dull headache. Oh, my God, did I sleep off all the truth serum?
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Edna said in a tight little voice. “You know these things take time.”
Sick at the idea of letting Makayla down, Athena turned on her heels and paced the other way. “Edna, you know Makayla doesn’t have time. When she turns eighteen next month, she’ll be emancipated from the foster system. She needs our help now.”
The dreaded sigh again. Deeper, louder this time. She knew if she could see Edna, she’d be puffing out her thin chest and blowing through tense lips.
“Athena, your family is employing Makayla at your new emporium, which is generous of you. Do I need to remind you again that the museum is not a charity to help orphaned young ladies, no matter how gifted?”
Makayla was talented. She’d beat out the competition on her own merit. Athena had tried to be impartial, but inwardly she’d been rooting for her. She didn’t know exactly why Makayla grabbed her around the heart, but she did, and Athena refused to fail her now.
Anger burned away her need to be diplomatic. Or maybe truthfulness had residual effects.
“Edna, my mother helped build the Costume Collection from nothing to the second best in this country,” she said through clenched teeth because she shivered from the cold and frustration. “The collection has enhanced the museum’s reputation enormously, which is probably why you’ve been asked to the conference in Paris. And let us not forget that my father, through his financial expertise, helped solidify the museum’s endowment. I believe my family has earned a few minutes of your time and consideration of my request.”
Edna’s silence stabbed at Athena’s already bruised heart. No one had actually accused her father of embezzlement within her hearing, but she’d heard the gossip many times. Had felt it. Like she herself felt the dull ache of anger toward her dad. Why hadn’t he fought the Clayworths for his good name, or tried to explain, or even come up with an excuse? Anything would be better than his black hole of silence.
At last Edna gave another of her classic exasperated sighs. “We will discuss this upon my return.”
“Yes, we will. By then I’ll have the funding myself. Have a good flight.” She clicked off the phone and threw it on the bed.
She would finish what her father had started. Nothing else mattered.
Except for the not-so-small matter of her guilt.
She didn’t give a damn whether or not Drew suspected her of thievery. Maybe he’d agreed to her proposal so he could watch her. She didn’t care about his motives. She’d stick to their unhealthy alliance to get what she needed.
She did care that her becoming ill might have compromised the Secret Closet’s security system because Bridget left it unlocked when Athena had to be rushed to the hospital. If she hadn’t stuck her head under the skirt for hours, the dresses and further unsuspecting victims of the fumes might never have been at risk. So not only did she have to fix the mess her father left, she must do whatever it took to help Drew find the Bertha Palmer dresses. The sooner the better. Like sands through the hourglass, time was running out. She had less than three weeks.