Page 44 of Love Hollow at Last
“Quite,” said Professor Jin drily.“Though I’m afraid it’s likely all the same.”
“Okay.Thanks.”
When she put down her phone, the world seemed to have shifted.She went to the kitchen, poured the rest of her green tea into a glass with ice, and went to the back window.
This is not going to be an easy choice.
39
Aya
Aya had made so many calls to the museum’s plumber of choice, Nathan, that they should have been good friends.But he had a tendency to answer in monosyllables, so that seemed to thwart even her most polite attempts at conversation.
“So, do you think you can fix it?”she asked, trying not to reveal the level of nervousness she was feeling.
“Eventually.”
She bit her lip.“How late is eventually?Because we have a bunch of people coming in.”
“A month, maybe two.”
He had already told her the work would take time and a lot of parts would need to be replaced.But she had been hoping there was some way to fast-track that.
“Okay.Do you know if any of the bathroom rental places could get us something last minute, then?”
That time, he didn’t say anything, only shook his head.
“Are you sure?”
“Festival.”
Of course.They had probably rented all the facilities within a hundred-mile radius.There she was, basically solely responsible for providing bathrooms to dozens of senior citizens, and she had absolutely nothing.
“Thanks, Nathan.”
“Welcome.”
He cleared out, and Aya was left standing at the front desk of the museum.Her computer was open, the draft of her thesis outline blinking up at her.It had been hilarious to think she could come in to work late, still exhausted even after all that coffee and tea, and think she could work on it.Not to mention the impossibility of returning to Chicago.Then the museum would be truly abandoned.
Into all that chaos barged Mrs.Irving, though Aya was thankful it was in the form of a phone call.Aya sent it to voice mail.She should have learned over the years.Everyone who worked for Mrs.Irving either quit or bowed down completely to her tyranny.Aya didn’t think of herself as working “for” anyone, but it turned out that when Mrs.Irving was on the board, everyone was at her beck and call.Her mother always said they should be thankful, that if someone had to take the place of both Katos on the board, it needed to be someone who was well known in Love Hollow.
She didn’t say “well liked,” as that would have been a bit of a fib.Mrs.Irving was well known.Perhaps, in the words of some people, she was infamous.
And she was knocking on the front door.
“We’re closed today,” said Aya, unlocking it and opening it just a crack.It turned out there was a reason that was not recommended.She should have written a message and slipped it under the locked door, the way she was always told to do in little booklets about preserving her civil rights.
Because an unlocked door, to Mrs.Irving, was an open invitation.In spite of the warm afternoon, she was dressed in sensible pumps, tights, and a gray wool suit with a well-ironed blouse underneath.Small studs were in her ears, her hair in her trademark braided bun.Aya never pictured Mrs.Irving any other way.She wore the same outfit for a shift selling nachos at the football game as she did when she gave a eulogy at a funeral.And she gave plenty of those.Mrs.Irving was always willing to help and always eager to talk, so when there was no other obvious speaker, the role often fell to her.
“I’ve come about the flowers,” she said.“I saw that you forgot to order them for the festival.”
Her voice had more than a bit of an English accent left in it, though she’d lived in the United States for most of her life.Aya always suspected her of putting it on a bit.After all, it made her sound even more imperious and somehow smarter than her listeners.
“You have a copy of the budget, Mrs.Irving,” she said.“There wasn’t any money left for flowers this year.”
“Yes, I have a copy of the budget,” she said.“Did you ask any of the local florists for donations?”
“Hmm?Donated flowers?”
