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I
study the rabbit’s
nose up close—it
really is incredible—and
realize how much I want to get back into my own art. I’ve
missed it. I need it, I think.
    Artistic
expression is a part of who I am, and I’m
glad St. Clair is reminding me of that.
     
    The
next morning I’m
on the phone waiting to speak to the manager of a reclusive artist
for an appointment that I’ve
been trying to get for days and Maisie is chattering nonstop about
some robbery.
    “They
don’t
know who did it, or how. It’s
all very mysterious,” Maisie
says, dropping a pile of papers on my desk. I nod absently, thinking
about how much I want an exclusive deal with this artist. “It’s
all over the papers, especially after the Carringer’s
fiasco.”
    “There
does seem to be a spree, doesn’t
there?” I
say, wondering why there’s
this sudden interest in art from the criminal community.
    “It’s
like Ocean’s
Eleven!” Maisie
giggles just as the manager comes back on the line. “Miss
Bennett?”
    “Yes,
I’m
here,” I
say. Maisie gives me a thumbs-up and leaves.
    A
few minutes later I’m
knocking on St. Clair’s
office door, excited to tell him about the appointment I just made
with the reclusive artist that is going to knock his socks off.
“We’ll
get to visit his studio next week,”
I tell him
happily. “He
hardly ever allows collectors to see his work in progress, I think
this could be a great relationship for you.”
    St.
Clair seems distracted, putting papers into his briefcase. “I’m
afraid it’ll
have to wait. I’m
leaving for London tomorrow and I’ll
be gone for a month.”
    A
month?
    “Oh.”
I can’t
imagine a month without seeing him, but I try to act like it’s
no big deal. “Okay,
well, can I get you to sign those release forms for the new purchase
and approve the—”
    “I
don’t
know if that will work either.”
There’s
a strange smile playing on his lips.
    “Okay...”
Confusion
freezes me where I stand. What’s
going on? “Why
not?”
    For
a terrible moment, I wonder if he’s
decided to fire me, after all. Then St. Clair’s
grin widens. “Because
you’ll
be coming with me.”

 

CHAPTER 5
     
    After
a whirlwind week packing and making arrangements, I still can’t
believe it when we touchdown and I step off the plane in London. I’m
in Europe!
    I’m
so excited I’m
almost bouncing on my toes as we maneuver through the crowds at
Heathrow and get swooped up by St. Clair’s
car and driver. Charles sits calmly in the seat next to me, checking
his phone as I rubberneck at all the tourist attractions I’ve
only read about.
    “Look,
there’s
Big Ben!” I
say as we drive by the famous tower. “And
Westminster Abbey!”
    St.
Clair smiles, amused. “Be
glad Londoners can’t
see or hear you right now. You’d
be ribbed mercilessly for being so American.”
    I
laugh. “Sorry.
I tried to play it cool all the way here, couldn’t
you tell? It’s
not every day I fly first class.”
    Try,
never.
    “Real
cool,” he
grins, teasing. “The
whole plane heard you squeal when they brought out afternoon tea.”
    “But
it was scones and clotted cream, on real china!”
I protest. “I
know, I’m
not sophisticated, I’ve
just never traveled abroad before. I’ve
wanted to for so long.” I
gaze out the windows at all the old brick, the stone fountains full
of sculptures, the actual cobblestone roads, the river Thames and its
ancient waters. “There’s
so much history here.”
    “It’s
a great city,” he
agrees. “And
you’ll
have plenty of time to explore it.”
    “I
don’t
know. My boss is pretty strict.”
    “Don’t
worry.” He
grins. “I’ll
make sure that jerk doesn’t
work you too hard.”
    We
stop at a signal in front of Buckingham Palace, its grand façade
stretching for blocks. “Wow,
the palace guards really do stand still as statues. Is it true that
if you go bother them, they still can’t
move or talk?”
    St.
Clair laughs.
    “What?”
I say,