Page 75 of All I Want for Christmas

Chapter Fifteen

‘They’re in the meeting room. Go straight in, Darcy. Hello Mr Lorensen. They’re expecting you both,’ Ida said brightly, half rising in her chair. Darcy noticed how the young woman’s eyes lingered on Max as he passed.

As they approached the door she took a deep breath, flexing her fingers. It was a nervous tic.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, seeming to notice even as he moved with the comfort of a man in his element, walking beside her with a relaxed stride.

She nodded, but she was nervous. He reached an arm out towards her.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he said quietly, his hand brushing over hers. ‘This is your moment.’ His gaze tangled with hers as he pushed on the open door.

‘Ah, Miss Cotterell. Max,’ the National Gallery director said, looking up as they walked in. Margit and Otto were sitting forward, their elbows on the conference table, as if they’d been deep in conversation. ‘Take a seat. Take a seat.’

‘Apologies for running late, Margit,’ Max said, shaking her hand. ‘...Otto.’

‘Max,’ Otto said, the men shaking hands too. They all seemed very well acquainted with one another.

Margit had taken the chair at the head of the table. Ottowas sitting to her right and it seemed politic that Darcy should sit beside him. Max took the empty chair on Margit’s left and Darcy was aware of their splitting into camps.

Darcy smiled at Otto as she settled herself, laying the bag with the wooden carousel by her feet and the folder flat on the table. Viggo had given her a lockable box file for transporting the source material here. It made her feel like a cabinet minister with the classified red box.

‘Helle’s on her way. She said she’d be a couple of minutes behind us,’ Max said, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he took his seat. He didn’t look like a man who, fifteen minutes earlier, had been buying a felted teddy bear Christmas tree decoration.

‘Helle too?’ Margit smiled. ‘This must be an exciting discovery!’

A slight sardonic note rang out in her words. Darcy glanced at Max to see if he’d picked up on it too, but he was sitting with an impassive expression on his face.

‘Well, we’re trying to remain cautious at this point,’ Darcy said, remembering Viggo’s prudence. ‘But it’s great to have some news to share at last.’

‘It has indeed felt like a long couple of weeks.’ Margit’s smile was fixed, merely a formality; there was steel in her voice and Darcy was under no illusion just how much she wanted this mystery to be resolved. Fast. Press releases had been issued and the mystery portrait had led to a surge in ticket bookings.

The door opened. ‘Ah, thank you, Ida,’ Otto murmured. ‘Just set the coffees down there.’

The PA did as she was instructed, sneaking another look at Max as she reluctantly turned to leave again. If he noticed, he gave no sign of it, but Darcy still felt a stab of jealousy. She supposed this must happen to him a lot.

Margit ‘played mother’, though only Otto reached for his cup and saucer on the desk. Darcy was too nervous to drink and Max seemed unbothered, adjusting his cufflinks.

‘I understand you were at the gallery, Max, when the discovery was made?’ Margit asked him.

‘Yes.’

‘What a happy coincidence.’

Darcy fell very still, hearing a buzz of undercurrent to the words. Had word somehow got back of a less-than-professional relationship between them? Had Jens relayed their midnight argument as a lover’s tiff? If it wasn’t right, it also wasn’t wrong.

‘It was,’ he said evenly. ‘I just happened to be looking in at the pertinent moment.’

Darcy kept her gaze down, the tissue-wrapped carousel by her feet. To think a forgotten scarf had led to all this.

‘How is the recovery process coming along?’ he asked back.

‘It’s coming slowly,’ Margit sighed. ‘The bond on the backing is almost like glue. And of course, they mustn’t warp or pull on the board. They think now the portrait went in wet—’

Darcy frowned but, just then, the door opened again and Helle Foss bustled through. She was carrying a leather bag bulging with paperwork. ‘Traffic.’

‘I hope you didn’t put yourself out, Helle,’ Margit said, watching as the short woman took the seat beside Max.

‘Not at all. Not at all,’ she replied, appearing to miss Margit’s sardonic tone.

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