Page 2 of Shelf-Made Man
“Ma’am, I always have time for your delightful company.” Even though he didn’t affect a sophisticated accent, whenever he spoke to her—in person or in writing—he found himself sounding as if he’d stepped out of a Victorian novel. He had to make a concerted effort to sound normal.
Her skirts rustled as if she were smoothing them. “I do quite enjoy our correspondence, and I’m impressed by your faithfulness with it. Few young people would bother to write to an old lady at all, let alone several times per year. I believe, in fact, that your generation relies entirely on electronic communication, and that is a shame. Elegant handwriting on fine paper is so much more meaningful. It’s the personal touch, you know. One lingers over a handwritten letter.”
Tobias smiled. “I enjoy getting mail from you too.” That was entirely true. Whenever one of her cream-colored envelopes arrived, his day improved dramatically. He liked running his fingers over the thick paper, carefully opening the flap, and drawing out the hand-tinted card with the embossed eagle. She usually gave him a short anecdote about some famous person she’d once met—now long dead—followed by some general advice. Her handwriting was impeccable. The best thing was knowing that someone had taken the time and effort to reach out to him.
“When I was younger, I used to entertain often. Butnow, well, you know I’ve become a bit of a recluse and my visitors are rare.”
“I’m honored you invited me.”
“I did so because I have something I would like to give you. Oh, don’t get too excited. My estate will go to charity. The Museum of Modern Art can take whatever they want, and the remainder will go to the Global Women’s Fund.”
“I didn’t— That’s all very far in the future anyway.”
She laughed. “You’re sweet.”
He honestly hadn’t even thought about a potential inheritance from her, and now, even though she must be in her nineties, he found the idea of her death quite distressing. His link to her might be rather tenuous, but she was all he had left.
“Stay here,” she said. “I’ll go fetch it.” There was more skirt rustling before a door creaked open, admitting a sliver of light, and then she was gone.
That left Tobias shifting uncomfortably on the torture chair and trying to get a better view of the room’s contents, now that his eyes had adjusted. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed since he’d last been here, which was the December after he graduated college—an entire decade ago.
He didn’t know whether Aunt Virginia was, in fact, a member of the nobility. She claimed that her deceased fourth and final husband had been an Italian count. Of course, she also claimed that her third husband was a 1950s movie star who she wasforbidden by the divorce agreement to name, and that her second husband was a wizard who was eventually and unwillingly dragged to another dimension. So Tobias took her title with a grain of salt, although he never expressed his disbelief aloud.
On the other hand, her first husband was a well-known artist. That he knew to be true because the guy, who’d been a couple of decades her senior when she married at eighteen, had created all those paintings of her. Tobias’s mother had told him that some of them hung in art museums, which had impressed him even when he was a child.
Regardless of whether she was truly a countess, it didn’t hurt to behave as if she were. It made her happy, anyway.
Aunt Virginia returned several minutes later. He caught a glimpse of her when the door opened, and she appeared to be carrying a shoebox. Then she closed the door and returned to her chair.
“You know, Tobias, in your letters you speak a good deal about your work. But what about your personal life? Are you dating someone, perhaps?”
He was glad she couldn’t see him wince. “Not really.” There were hookups now and then, but most of them proved disappointing.
“Surely there must be many eligible young men in Portland. Are they too foolish to see your value?”
“I guess I just haven’t clicked with anyone. But it’s okay. Work keeps me busy, and?—”
“Yes.” There was a tapping that sounded like her fingers on cardboard. “When I was a young woman, I had so many adventures. You can’t even imagine them all. And in between husbands, I had dozens of lovers. Mostly men, although some lovely women as well. Ah, it was wonderful.”
She paused as if to allow this to sink in. He’d always known her as an old woman who dressed beautifully but kept herself tucked away in her apartment. His mother once told him that if Aunt Virginia went out, she did so at night. It had never occurred to Tobias that she might have been pretty wild during her youth. Although maybe the nude paintings on her walls should have been a clue.
When she continued, she wounded wistful. “I settled down when I marriedil conte, of course. He was such a fine man. Very kind and intelligent—and ten years my junior. I thought we’d have the rest of our lives together. But alas, he grew ill, and… and our time was cut short. By the time I had mourned enough and was ready to continue my life, I was well past the flower of youth. I was no longer the girl people admired in paintings.”
“But—”
“Hush. Let me finish. I withdrew, Toby. I could not face the world with my wrinkles and gray hair, so I tucked myself away. The older I became, the deeper I burrowed. Until now, when so few days remain to me and I find myself entirely unable to unlock the cage I’veput myself in.”
Tobias’s throat felt tight. “But you’re such a fascinating person, my lady. I’ve never met anyone as interesting as you. It’s a shame to deny the world your company. I’d be happy to escort you anywhere you wish.”
“Oh, you are a dear boy, but it’s simply no longer possible. Do not fret, however. I have made peace with it. I only mention it because I am afraid you are locking yourself away as well, and you’re far too young and vital for this. Carpe diem, gather ye rosebuds, or as your generation likes to say, YOLO.”
“I, um….” Tobias didn’t know how to respond to this. She was correct that he’d been fairly hermity, and not by choice. Unlike her, though, he was no beauty. He was weird, and pretty boring, and had a really hard time connecting with people. He’d never had many friends as a child, instead being the type of kid who spent recesses sitting against a wall and reading a book, pretending he didn’t mind that nobody wanted to play with him.
“You deserve happiness,” Aunt Virginia said. “If you’re happy alone and at home, that’s perfectly fine. But if you’re not, don’t wait too long to change things, dear. The years slip by faster than you think.” She stood, skirts rustling, and set the box on the lamp table, then returned to her seat.
“Thank you for caring about me,” Tobias said, meaning it. He didn’t tell her that he had no clue how to follow her advice.
“I’m afraid that I must end our visit. You came allthis way to see me, and you are such a delight, but I’m ancient and I tire easily.”
