Serendipity Master

8/8/2019 Serendipity Master

1/33

Title: Serendipity

Author: Sharon

Rating: PG

Movie Character: Alex Ross Rough Magic

Disclaimer: The following story has been written with no intention of claiming

ownership or solicitation, nor does the author claim the movie character(s) as his/her own.

The movie character(s) have been borrowed solely out of a love of the particular movie

and is not intended for any other purpose but amusement and entertainment.

Much gratitude and affection goes out to: Tina, Taffey, Jessie, and Darrin for their

wonderful support and encouragement in my writing.

July, 2007

Thats not for sale, the big-haired lady behind the counter told Deidre Montgomery,

flicking an apologetic smile her way over the top of her magazine. She sat behind a long

row of wood and glass showcases stuffed full of Depression-ware and baubles. Her toneindicated that she had kept an eagles eye on Deidres movements through the store for

the past half-hour.

Deidre straightened from bending over one particularly dusty corner of the display case,

feeling chastised by a teacher for playing with the science equipment. Her hand hovered

above the area where a small blue and white bowl sat portioned off from other pieces by a

hand written sign explaining its history. Shed gasped in surprise when she read the


2/33

placard, for it was a bowl from Nagasaki, an artifact of the Japanese city where the

second atomic bomb had been dropped. She had gasped because it certainly looked as if it

had been bombed: one half of it was blackened and scorched with a tell-tale patina of

violent heat and light. Deidre meant to ask what it was doing here in an antique store

instead of a museum, but the lady had anticipated her unspoken hope.

Oh, if only Deidre murmured, shoulders slumping in disappointment. There was no

price visible on the piece and shed also been thinking that the price might have to be

negotiated. No sign of a price meant the same as it did in a restaurant: if you had to ask,

you couldnt afford it.

Did you find any of the pieces made in Occupied Japan? the saleslady asked, a polite

reminder of their earlier conversation. The establishment they were in was an antiques

mall in an old warehouse in the heart of downtown, the kind of shot-gun building that

seemed to run back into some undefined alleyway. A few corners were well lit, while

others hovered in a dim light shadow, enclaves and nooks and kiosks filled to the brimwith items that most people had considered junk at one time. Deidre glanced at her watch:

almost time to close.

Yes, yes, I did, Deidre replied, pressing her fingers together, wondering if she could at

leasthold itbring into a little bit better light, maybe see the markings on the bottom.

But she didnt have any gloves with her, and it would feel almost sacrilegious to place her

oily fingertips on such an item. A three-year career as a museum curator had honed her

sensitivities that way. I found it in one of the cases in the back, a sweet little demitasse

cup that my aunt would just adore. She returned her attention to the forbidden item

before her, pointing down to it. She was not going to be dismissed so easily, if its notfor sale, may I ask who owns it?

A gentleman brought it in one afternoon and he was first going to sell it, the

proprietress said, her reading glasses at the end of her nose, reinforcing the distracted but

firm image of a teacher caught in her work. She laughed as she remembered. But no

sooner had he marched out the door, he turned around and marched back in and I thought

he was going to take it back. I talked him into at least letting it just stay here in the case.

You dont see a piece of history like that every day. He said he felt bad hoarding it away,

but I could tell he was having a hard time parting with it, too. Have to wonder if it doesnt

have some sentimental value.

I bet it does, Deidre said, images of a world-weary, life-worn elderly veteran flitting

through her head. Whats his name?

The saleslady frowned for a moment and then shuffled over to the spot, pulling out a key

from her pocket. She opened the back door to the case, reached in, and tilted it enough to

look at the tag attached. A Mr. Ross Millan,** she informed Deidre, and set it back


3/33

down.

Did he leave a phone number?

Oh, now if he did, the saleslady sighed, giving her a sympathetic smile. Im sure I

couldnt find it right now. I tell you what, if you want to talk to him so bad, you canleave a message and I can put it with the bowl for when he comes back in.

Does he come in often? Deidre pursued, after she had scribbled her own contact number

on a piece of paper torn off her grocery list.

I havent seen him for some time, but that doesnt mean he wont come in soon. Hes a

bit unpredictable, the lady replied.

When Deidre returned to the front with the demitasse to pay, the saleslady was waiting.

You know, you got my curiosity up, she said, and I did find this, she held up a card

with scribbling on it. She wouldnt let Deidre see the phone number, though. Hes at a

place called the Gaslight Tavern. I think its some resort out on the edge of town. Way

out in the country. People I know like to go there once in a while and kick up their heels,

but Ive never been there myself. I hear its a real fine place, she concluded.

After leaving the shop, Deidre drove aimlessly around the square in her car, debating

whether or not she should make the foray down the country lanes to look for the vaunted

Gaslight Tavern. With luck, shed be able to talk with the original owner and charm him

into letting her showcase the bowl. However, there were only so many country lanes shecould investigate and the sky had turned from a watery blue to silver gray in the time that

she was in the shop. A light drizzle tamped down what little adventuresome spirit she

had started out with.

She almost turned back to tell the owner of the shop that she was the curator of exhibits

at the Abner Grove Museum of Natural History would she not consider a special loan?

Did she think the man might agree to that? Deidre felt certain that if she explained that a

traveling exhibit on the Pacific Theatre of World War II was arriving next week, the logic

of borrowing the bowl would be obvious. And, in the greedier parts of her heart, she was

certain that would give her an advantage to purchase the bowl, as she was sure it would bea timely accomplishment for Acquisitions.

It wasnt mere greed that compelled Deidre Montgomery to think this way: she had an

eye for historical pieces, ones that others would cast away as insignificant or meaningless,

ones that generations of people connected with once it was placed in its proper context.

She often spent her Saturdays going to garage sales, estate sales and the occasional out of

the way antique store. Her antiquities-eye had been trained while she worked for an art


4/33

appraiser for several, but was now somewhat lax since she took the job as museum

curator. She enjoyed her job thoroughly, but it was sadly and utterly focused in house.

This was a necessary task as the previous curator had left the record-keeping and

preservation room in a shambles, but the weekend jaunts had become her way of keeping

a practiced eye open for those odd pieces that might otherwise pass by and the little

Nagasaki bowl was a real gem of a find in this out of the way town.

She was jarred out of her daydream by a honking horn the light shed been waiting for

had turned green. Muttering under her breath, Deidre turned her car homeward in

resignation. She needed to rest anyway. Tomorrow, the new exhibit arrived and she

would be chin-deep in dispersing papers, un-boxing artifacts, sorting labels, moving

display cases, and managing the crew, not to mention the meetings with her bosses. It

would be a busy week before shed be able to relax once more.

**From the bookMyra Shumway Waves a Wand by James Hadley Chase.

~ @ ~ @ ~ @ ~ @ ~

August, 2007

Voices behind him were appropriately hushed, lowering somewhat as they rounded the

corner of the display wall and entered the exhibit enclave where he stood. Alex Ross did

not turn. He remained in his lackadaisical stance of hands in his pockets, shoulders at rest,

his jacket looped over one hand, chewing thoughtfully on a cinnamon-flavored toothpick.

His present awareness was somewhat muddled by the images before him, large black and

white photos mounted on black masonite and overlapped in a scattered outline of thevarious scenes of the Pacific Theatre of World War II.

The words on the various labels before him were a blur: he knew the story well enough.

Hed wondered how he would feel seeing the items that had participated in the events so

long ago enclosed in plexiglass and labeled and categorized had anticipated disgust and

apathy. Instead, the melancholy with which he was so familiar returned - born more of a

disappointment by how little there was to represent that particular theatre of war.

Unlike the European theater, the display explained, fighting in the Pacific had not garnered

quite as much memorabilia, largely because there was less portability and less

interaction with the cultures in the Pacific. Alex knew there were more personal reasons,though, the kinds of reasons he shared with many of the Greatest Generation: some of

those thingsshouldhave been left behind.

Still, it made him feel not quite so alone to see that he wasnt the only one who brought

home souvenirs.

The Abner Grove Natural History sat in a reclusive part of town, back upon a hillock,


5/33

surrounded by artistic gardens and pools, approached by a long winding drive with tall

elm trees arching over. It stood apart from the mainstream of the city, a little bubble of

culture that seemed to thrive only on the good graces of a few interminably rich donors.

It was Tina who had suggested he come to the exhibit, bless her heart. The Second World

War was of particular historical interest to her, a subject Alex was all too happy to let

Jack Corbett, Lachlan, Jim, and other Brothers discuss. He remained quiet about muchand fortunately not many pressed him. Alex needed only to close his eyes and see the

images that popped to know that he did not want to verbally relive what he saw; and

they respected that. Hed resisted at first - there was too much going on at the Point.

And what did he think would happen to him if he did visit? That the pain of older

memories would suddenly be all swept away?

Something recent had compelled him to come here, though. Part of it was what all the

others said about the exhibit, part of it because he did want to try, once and for all, to

exorcise the demons. It helped to have others with him too, otherwise he might have

turned around at the door and hitch-hiked back home.

Hey, man, refreshments in the back room, Steve mumbled, stepping up next to him, a

cookie in one hand, a Styrofoam cup of coffee in the other. Grab some and bring it with

ya.

Why?

Were on our way into town, he added, referring to his significant other, Donna, not but

a few feet away and absorbed in study of one of the cases. You look like youve seen

several ghosts, so I thought wed buzz outta here.

None that arent already at home, Alex murmured, ruefully, and then shrugged it off.

Tina said I should visit and Id be a heel if I said I did when I didnt.

Mmm-hmm. Yeah, Steve mumbled through another bite. Hate to rush you, but I

promised Donna Id take her by the craft store before we went home. Got some bug up

her butt to do another baby blanket. If I hear the sound of those fucking needles clacking

together again, Ill go nutso, so I gotta find something at that store, too, just to drown out

the noise. Come lend some support, man.

You go on. Ill catch a taxi, Alex replied. As much as he liked his fellow New Yorker,

the last thing he wanted to be was third wheel, even for a domestic trip. He had no

companion of his own to grouse about for the time being, and he didnt want reminding of

that. After Annabella, the Points earlier chef as well as his girlfriend, had left, hed spent

a little time mourning; then pulled himself up by the bootstraps and got back to work.

Recently, hed been busy writing promotionals for the Point, for the Tavern, for his

Brothers, not to mention learning how to use the computer and something called


6/33

blogware, which both fascinated and frustrated him. He had an easier time of it than his

Brothers, since investigative reporting didnt require a lot of face-to-face contact or

Outside involvement. But every once in a while, he needed it.

After Steve and Donna said their good-byes, he wandered a bit more, coming at last to a

corner that specifically concentrated on the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, almostby accident. Once again this brought to mind the devastation he had been called upon to

photograph, the little bowl he had taken as souvenir, the one he had retrieved from his

movie not long after he arrived at the Point and had decided to put away indefinitely,

some place where he could not let himself get wrapped up in it again. Hed had to do that

for his sanity, especially after Annabelle left.

and at seven this evening, wed like to invite you to join us in the auditorium for our

guest speaker, Charles Evans, who will discuss the at tack on Pearl Harbor. He has some

very interesting things to say about the comparisons to September 11.

Alex turned to look for the owner of the voice, a very feminine and clear voice, and the

images the dulcet tones concocted were not disappointed. She was a stunning figure

standing next to a door leading to the auditorium, talking to a small group of tourists that

had stopped to listen, a lithe woman with striking good looks and a cascading flow of dark

burnished red hair that reached past her shoulders. She was dressed well, looking as if she

had stepped off the covers of some kind of Museum Fashion Quarterly. He discovered he

was responding quickly to the flash in her eye and the way she moved.

He waited until her eyes drifted his way, then he let his own gaze drop down and then up

before turning a quarter of a step away, as if he had really been aiming for the case next tohim. Calculating bastard that he was, Alex was intrigued. As expected, she gave him a

responding stare, flashed shades of surprise and evaluation of her own, and quickly

covered it up as people cornered her for questions.

Now he either had to move in for the kill, or wait and see if she would find the courage to

approach him. He was never sure how it went these days. Women of the 21st century had

lost the ability to chase and be chased and he was still trying to figure out how to gauge

the kind of woman who would do just that...if that kind of woman still existed. All too

often, though, just by hanging around the tavern, the chase lasted all of five minutes,

devolving into a negotiation of where, rather than when. His jaded heart was sure this onewould be no different a regular ball-buster if she was a career woman but the rest of

him had already begun a jitter-bug of anticipation.

I hope you are enjoying the exhibit, came her voice beside him. He had turned to view

another plexiglass case of artifacts, paraphernalia taken with the men on Enola Gay for

their fateful mission, inching his way towards this particular section of the museum for an

hour now, uncertain he wanted to relive the memories that had been instilled in him so


7/33

long time ago. But now that she was here

Yes, I am, Alex said, and met her eyes, every nerve of him leaping in response to her.

She was a bit smaller than he, head held high, as if she could take him square on. Her eyes

were an intriguing olive green. He decided to spend time just looking into them next

chance he got. And now that she was much closer he sensed that her fashionable outfithid some serious curves. Im finding it. his eyes dropped to her mouth momentarily,

educational.

I dont know if you heard the announcement, she continued, looking slightly ruffled by

his frank stare. We have some interesting speakers tonight, as well as throughout the

week, and a ceremony tomorrow for the installation of a memorial wall.

Actually, Im just here for the refreshments, he quipped, and immediately regretted it,

for the corners of her mouth turned down slightly at the joke. Just kidding, he told her

quickly. I saw the flyers for the panel and the memorial. Thats going to be quite anevent.

Have you come far? she asked. Were such a small town museum, Im sometimes

surprised at the visitors we get. Why, just a few days ago, there were people all the way

from Australia!

Alex suppressed a grin. That would have to have been Terry, Lachlan, Jack

Corbett, and Adalia.

No, not far, Miss? He paused, hoping she would oblige him with her name instead ofpressing for his origins. She pointed to the brass label pinned to her collar. Deidre

Montgomery, he repeated, and caught himself mulling that name. Youre the curator?

I am, she replied, quite proudly. Been here for three years now.

Quite a display, he told her, but let his eyes say other things.

A gratifying blush stole into her cheeks as she pointed to the Hiroshima display in an

effort to end an awkward silence. Sobering to think that these ordinary things witnessed

such a horrible day, she told him.

Alex glanced at the items in the case. Yes. He was familiar with all of that.

Van Kirks sextant, radio headsetand there, Deidre pointed to a small pedestal where

a single tea cup sat, a numbered pin and label description at its base, its once brilliantly

painted design marred by the vestiges of fire and debris. Alex watched her expression

morph from bland interest to a kind of hunger, as if she wanted to sit and examine every


8/33

particle of it, hold it in her fingers, absorb the remnants of the life it used to know.

Somehow, that made sense to him.

from the fallout of Hiroshima, she was saying, and then caught him watching her.

Blushing again, she mumbled something about the obvious placard. He gave her anothersmile, thinking hed much rather flirt with her than review the past.

We also have cookies and punch in the next room, she added when he did not reply.

The words followed by a private look of oh crap, I already said that.

Yes, I know, he replied patiently. And as long as its not sausage and tequila, Im easy

to please.

Oh? Sounds like a personal experience, she teased.

Youve no idea.

Anything else?

I hear Aussies have some pretty strange things to eat.

And here I was going to bring out the Vegemite and cook something on the barbie in case

more of them showed up.

Thank God Im not Aussie.

Thank God Im not much of a cook.

Alex rolled his eyes. Well, this is gonna be a beautiful friendship!

She laughed, a round belly-driven sound that sent a whirr through his bloodstream. He

steeled himself to stand very still the charge he got from her laugh would have sent him

flying all around the museum.

Well, Id better get back to work, she said then, suddenly shy. I hope you can make itto the seminar tonight. The speaker deserves a large audience.

Ill be there with bells on, he assured her and watched how the shadows caught her

curves as she walked through various spotlights, the light and dark adding emphasis to the

swing that was already in her step. Hed been making plans to meet her after the

evenings event anyway; now he figured he had to, especially since he recalled where hed

heard that name before: his answering machine, from the woman who owned the shop


9/33

where hed put up his bowl. He rattled the handful of coins in his pocket, grinning at the

prospects. What serendipity!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

No matter what she tried to do sit in the front row, check with the docents on the statusof the guests remaining in the exhibit rooms, or fiddle with the stacks of programs,

Deidre always found herself seeking out the man with the aqua-green eyes in the small

ampitheatre adjoining the museum. He sat in the middle, off to the right, in a spot that

seemed to give him as much a view of the room as possible, so that he could see her as

much as she could see him; and Deidre embarrassed herself by imagining he was watching

her, too; even though every time she looked, he was blandly focused on the speaker.

Before long, she was desperate for anything that would keep her from studying Mr.

Fedora (she had to call him that since she, in all her bumbling, had failed to get his name)

instead of paying attention to the room. She gave in when the lights were dimmed to show

slides and found that his face was caught in a back-glow off the screen. She wasntsure if it was the shadows or not, but the merry face that had greeted her in the exhibit

hall now had a melancholy, almost haunted, look.

She became caught up in the mini-battle for nonchalance and busy-ness when the lights

were turned back on, so much so that the call for questions signaling the end of the lecture

startled her. Deidre lifted her head from the stack of pamphlets she had been fidgeting

with and found that the speaker was staring at his audience expectantly. Mr Fedora had

leaned forward, the haunted look harder now, as if he were trying to reassert a particular

mask, and as if he might have a few questions for the speaker.

Would you say there was a great deal of evidence that Imperial Japan would surrender

after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima? Alex asked at last, after a couple of other

people had remarked on the more recent correlations with September 11. His aqua eyes

seemed to glint: Deidre could see a certain danger in them even at her distance. The

tension in the air went up a notch.

There was...Id have to say there was much discussed in the days leading up to Pearl

Harbor that... the speaker began, a youngish man in his mid-thirties, with an odd

assortment of grooming styles: sideburns that suggested a more Victorian sensibility than

someone who took an avid interest in World War II, and a blazer over a polo that he worewith an uncomfortable air, as if hed rather be wearing cargo shorts and t-shirts. Deidres

gaze slid back to Mr. Fedora even though the hat was in the chair next to him and his

jacket was off and laid across his lap, he had the air of someone who was very

comfortable in classic attire.

He didnt ask about Pearl Harbor, young man.


10/33

The rooms attention swerved for a challenging voice that brooked no trouble, a voice

shaky with age, but still deep and full of authority. An elderly man sat below Mr. Fedora,

white hair sparse upon his head. Next to him was an elderly woman whos hair was just

as white, but quite thick in comparison. Deidre saw the speakers face pale slightly and

heard the rest of the people move in their seats because they sensed an upcoming debate.

You gave a good speech, son, the elderly veteran continued, voice softening somewhat

into a grandfatherly tone that practically patted the speaker on the head. But I think

what the man was trying to get you to answer was some vital information about the

Japanese Empire and their unwillingness to surrender.

The rest of the exchange became kind of blur to Deidre as she watched a rather testy

discussion her focus switched to crowd control mode more than listening to the words

of the ensuing debate. What if people really lost their tempers? How would she calm

them down? But to her relief, the elderly gentleman held everyone rapt with a harrowing

tale and the audience asked him more questions than the speaker. Then, as if there weresome kind of signal, the crowd in the amphitheatre began to disperse, laughing and going

by both men to shake their hands and commiserate some more. Even though she got

caught up in saying good-bye to everyone, her gaze drifted once again to see Mr. Fedora

and the veteran salute each other, then pat each other on the backs with a smile.

Then his eyes found hers. Oh, boy.

Thank you for coming, I hope you enjoyed it, she recited as he approached. Her

stomach fluttered dangerously close to euphoric nausea.

Not as much as I would enjoy sharing a cup of coffee with you, he replied, fedora

balanced on his fingers.

I...its just that... she stammered, looking around to find the docents going through the

room to pick up stray pamphlets and turn off the projector. How long would it take for

her to shut down the rest of the museum? I have to close up shop before I can go

anywhere, Mr...?

It's Alex. Alex Ross. He held out his hand to shake and fingers closed around hers,

warm and strong. And here I was going to whisk you away to my secret lair and dazzleyou with a lead-up to my true identity.

Pardon me, she replied, giving him a stern look, but words like 'secret lair' and 'come

have coffee' do notgo together.

Oh, I see. Youre skeptical of my intent, he rejoined with a return of the merry twinkle.

Can I change your mind with some coffee?


11/33

She couldnt help but laugh again.

If you dont mind waiting, she explained, apologetically. It was against her better

judgment, running off into the night with a complete stranger; but she knew if she went on

home, shed be too keyed up to sleep. All she would do is lie in bed and think about him.Ill run through the usual checks and make sure no one gets locked in. Then, we can go.

She led him to the foyer of the museum where he could sit on a bench while she talked

briefly with the gift-shop manager, listened to the security guards report their stations,

and walked into the collections room to shut off the lights and retrieve her shawl and

purse. He sat watching with interest and joked with the guards as they hovered about,

standing again to put his coat back on when she returned to the foyer, shawl slung over

her shoulders and purse in hand. Deidre had spritzed some perfume on before reappearing

and the spicy floral fragrance caught on a faint draft as he opened the door for her.

Wheres your car? Deidre asked, as she stopped to consider her own sitting in its

reserved space close to the sidewalk. Most of the staff had left already, but the ones that

served to shut down the place and walked with them now scattered to their own cars.

One of the security guards hovered nearby.

Took a cab into town, Alex said, one hand fiddling with something in his coat pocket.

He saw the look of alarm cross her face and placed his hat back on his head. Dont

worry. Ive asked that gent over there to drop me off at the Coffee Niche. Youll meet me

there?

Yes, see you there, Deidre replied, breathing a private sigh of relief. It remained to be

seen whether or not their impromptu meeting would be worth offering him a ride just yet.

******************

Alex held off as long as he could. A cigarette pack was burning a hole in his pocket while

in the lecture, his fingers itching the entire evening to shake one out and light it; but now

that he was at the cafe, he debated whether or not he should. Deidre didnt seem the type

who cared much for cigarette smoke why should she, working in a sterile place like a

museum? But they'd been calling to Alex since before the tweedy, gimble-eyed twerp(finally) finished his lecture, right about the time when Alex felt like he would either deck

the brat or get up and leave. He would have done it, too, he told himself, if hed not been

acutely aware of the russet beauty that haunted the room. Every once in a while their

glances would cross each other and she always looked quickly away.

Naturally, this meant something; so, the sole possibility of finding out for sure was the

only reason he'd not given up on the entire evening. The pulse of attraction was hard to


12/33

ignore.

Damned if that kid up at the lectern didnt ruffle a few feathers, though, Alex thought.

After the guard had dropped him off, he'd plunked down at a sidewalk table outside the

Coffee Niche, the kind with an umbrella and little lights strung along the edges. He took a

moment to look around: mostly college kids in various forms of grunge, each looking likethe other, while he sat among them in fedora and coat. The incongruity of this decided the

cigarette. He knew hed end up feeling the way he always did when venturing outside the

Point: like the throwback he really was. If any of the slobs around him cast him a look, he

stared them down with his usual grin, fedora cocked back from his face.

In waiting for her to show, he thought back to the lecture again. Hed lost count of the

numerous slants the speaker had given the well-known documentation of the two

bombings so he could make points about current events. By the time the floor opened for

questions, Alex was so put out that hed barely managed to consolidate his thoughts into

one single question. He got a glance at Deidre and was glad the elder vet had taken up theslack the young womans eyes had widened at the unexpected challenges; but when the

speaker showed he could hold his own under fire, she visibly relaxed. He felt a bit sorry

for her: had to be nerve-wracking to wonder how a controversial subject would be

handled. On the other hand, she should have known: too many people still left who

havent fallen for the conventional wisdoms that covered over World War II.

There was, however, the sweet hint of perfume as she sidled past him through the door.

He had watched her every little movement then, and did not refrain from letting his

admiration show. Alex took a drag from his cigarette. Hed sit through several of those

lectures for the look she returned him.

Sorry Im late, he heard her say as she stepped up to the table. Quickly, he took off his

fedora and rose to his feet, ducking somewhat because the fairy lights nearly tangled in his

hair. Some lunatic decided to get in my lane and play games with the speed limit and my

sanity. She flashed him a smile as she sat down in the chair he pulled out for her. "Thank

you! I wanted to tell you: it is such a pleasure to see a man wear a hat, much less know to

take it off at the proper time."

"I rescue kittens from trees and obey the Boy Scout law, too," Alex avowed with a

mischievous glint in his eye. You're not late. Whatll you have?

Cafe latte, she said and began to rummage through her purse. He stopped her. Its just

a dime or two, he told her with a wink, and disappeared inside. Minutes later, he brought

out the steaming take-away cups and settled himself back into his chair.

So... she began, taking a sip.


13/33

He smiled silently at her over his cup. He liked the way her eyes turned a dark shade of

gold in the pale haze of the fairy lights.

So... She began again, leaning forward. You took a cab into town?

I did. Listen, he said, leaning forward himself, I wanted to tell you how much Ienjoyed the exhibit. Must have been a lotta hard work.

Oh, I had the easy part," Deidre shrugged. "Phone calls, getting refreshments, handing

out pamphlets. The other guys setting it up did the hard stuff. The real fun is when the

unexpected happens, like when you and the veteran spoke up...what was his name again?

I was fascinated by the story he told of landing in Guam. There was a nip in the air and

her hands were grateful for the heat of the coffee. Now that distractions were done away

with, she realized there was also a warmth radiating from him, something that had tugged

at her since she first saw him standing in the exhibit hall. She noticed his long fingers as he

played with the packet of cigarettes on the table, suppressed a smile as she realized Alexwas a bit nervous. She then pointed to them as a means of asking for one and he obliged,

ready with a lighter when she put it to her lips. I saw you salute him, which makes me

wonder: do you have a story to tell?

The slight grin blossomed into a sad smile. There was a lot he wanted to say, but he didn't

want to get into it right now. He's a Marine and Im a Marine. I wanted to say hello.

That's all. He paused to light his own cigarette. What about you? Whats your story?

Oh, nothing so illustrious as that, she replied. The game was on: how to get to know a

person and reveal as little of yourself as possible. Alex gave her the idea that he mightmake it fun. Plus, he was damned cute. Born and raised in Alabama, narrowly escaped

the debutante thing, left home for the musty back rooms of a museum. About the closest

to danger Ive ever come is crossing paths with a determined bridesmaid at a wedding.

You dont know battle until the bouquet is thrown.

I get the picture, he replied, chuckling. But why a museum?

As opposed to a corner office on Wall Street, or a doctors office in some huge city?

Heavens above, that would've been a dream come true for my uncle. Or rather, that I

marriedsomeone with a corner office on Wall Street. Or a lawyer and set up shop in LA.No, she sighed, her eyes following the way the smoke from his cigarette curled around

him. I wanted to control my own destiny. Id spent much of my childhood trying to

prove myself to other people. When I hit college, I realized I wanted to prove something

to myself. I like history and somehow, a museum felt like the natural place to be. She

stopped there, realizing she was pouring out her lifes story when she had been the one to

start the subject. Slightly incredulous either with him or herself, she wasnt sure she

tried again, ...and what do you do, Mr. Ross?


14/33

Hey, my old mans called Mr. Ross, Alex chided, tilting his chin so that she noticed the

slight cleft. She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup to stifle the urge to place both

of her hands on his cheeks and caress in an expression of adoration. I have friends who

call me several things, but Mr. Ross aint one of them.

Do they know what you do, Alex? Or is your life a mystery to them as well? Deidre

teased, resting her chin in her palm.

Touche, Alex laughed. He'd been closing the distance between them by leaning more and

more toward her, until his elbows rested on the table and they could look each other

directly in the eye. Im a writer. Er...journalist, actually. I freelance a lot of my work.

A writer! I thought you had that whole Walter Winchell look about you. I can see you

now, banging away at your typewriter, punching out the next breaking headline."

"Do nothing but phone calls. Like you. Research, contacts, AP wire. And I use a

computer now...erm...like everyone else." He stabbed out the stub of his cigarette to

cover his near slip. It had taken him a while to get used to 20 th century technology, the

stuff of science fiction in his time. "Nothing that a word slinger doesn't ordinarily do."

"Mmm-hmm, I see. A Marine and a writer. Okay, okay...I'm getting it now, she said,

smiling broadly. Small pictures beginning to form here."

Pictures?

Yeah, you know...hard bitten reporter, jaded by the world, on a quest to tell the world

what hes seen.

Alex lit another cigarette, covering himself again to keep from committing an infraction

that in his day would have not made a dame blink twice. The strong urge to call her doll

had to be suppressed. Despite the good will between them at the moment, hed learned

all too quickly that in the 21st century, forties-era terms of endearment could mean the

kiss of death on a date.

"I like those pictures," she added, shyly, giving him a sweet smile that flipped his heart.

He couldnt help himself anymore: he shortened the space between them to a few inches

and fixed her with a smoldering gaze. "Cant be anything like the pictures I'm thinking of,"

he divulged, and then held his breath, wondering how she would react. Even with his

natural impulses, he had surprised himself: he hadnt spoken to an Outside woman that

way since...well, in a long time.


15/33

Deidre didn't reply for several seconds, but he was pleased to see a hot light spring up in

her gold-green eyes. She had the kind of face that belonged on a pinup: bold features in

sexy arches and angles, and a killer smile with just enough of a secret in it to keep a man

wondering what she might tell him, if given the right kind of attention. The way she was

leaning in response to him told him he was doing just fine in that arena.

"What..." she finally began and her voice sounded raspy. She cleared her throat. "What

pictures at the museum did you like?"

Alex withdrew at that question, looking as sad as he felt at the memories that piled back

on.

"Pictures like those don't get much liking from me, I'm afraid," he replied, bluntly.

Deidre nodded her understanding. He could almost hear her berating herself: stupid,

stupid, stupid...

"Of course not, how silly for me to..." she began, but he took her hand, held it firmly as

he spoke. The air between them had thickened, as if a bomb had gone off; more so,

because something inside him had clicked on as well.

"It's just...I've seen plenty of pictures like that before," he told her, voice thankfully

steady. "My...grandfather had them. In his attic. He didn't talk much about it, but..." he

drifted in thought momentarily. What pictures he had brought with him to the Point were

ones made in the film, and those were about as non-military as they could get; but he'd

found ones in the library that spurred memories the Creator must have instilled, memoriesof the utter devastation of Nagasaki, of what little life limped among the ashen splinters,

of picking up the bowl...

He looked down at her hand - soft white skin, pretty fingers, smooth, short nails - he

could see himself cradling it as they danced. "He brought them down one day...I guess he

was feeling his age, and gave them to me. Said I could have them if I wanted, but to

prepare myself. There were a good many that weren't pretty. He was a photographer in

the war, a correspondent," he added, with a return of the jaunty smile. "Guess I'm a chip

off the ol' block."

"That must have been a treasure," she whispered in return. She was thinking she would

either be very reckless if he did anything more than hold her hand, or very cold in bed that

night if she got up and walked away. She was really hoping he would try something. She

was certain that it was the wrong time to forget herself. "Do you still have them?"

"No," he said, and he looked away for a few moments. He'd almost slipped and said

something about his little Nagasaki bowl. That would have tripped things up for sure,


16/33

knowing that the woman who had asked to purchase it in the antique store was sitting

right in front of him, glowing with invitation. Maybe I should go back to that shop and get

it... "They were donated...somewhere...before I could get them."

They both fell silent then, gazing at each other - it was clear they were both considering a

number of things. Then, he said, "there's a park just across the road. Nice view of the lake.Plenty of lighting," he added, with a grin.

"That would be nice," she agreed, and they both stood to gather their things and walk

across the parking lot. He offered his elbow to her as they went, grabbing her hand when

it came time to cross the four lane highway - traffic was considerably less now - and then

pulling it back through the crook of his arm as they reached the grassy lawn edging the

lake on the other side.

"I hope you don't mind my saying," Deidre said as they fell into a slow pace on the

sidewalk. It skirted the shores of the lake, meandering into a broad park with lots oftrees. But you don't sound like you're from this area. New York, I want to guess?"

"Yeah, born and bred."

"How long have you lived here?"

This caused a strange reaction, too, although it was subtle, a wince of pain, maybe hard

to tell since they passed out of the glow of a lamplight and shadows took over. "I got here

a decade ago." He then gave a short laugh. "Has it been that long?" His tone sounded

wistful. "Still feels like yesterday sometimes."

"I know what you mean," she told him and leaned against him. "Didn't think I'd end up

here, but now that I am, I'm really beginning to like it. Of course, it helps when I like my

job. I've been in some grand places, and was utterly miserable because I couldn't stand the

company...or the reason for being there."

"Whenever I was someplace miserable, it did a good job of bringing me down with it."

"Have you been happy here, Alex?" Deidre asked, abruptly. She didn't know why she

asked, but this was the third time she'd seen his expression dim and it bothered her.

He stopped in his tracks. They were in a bend in the sidewalk, braced by the huge trunk

of an oak tree, the water's edge lapping just feet away. Lights from the skyscrapers

downtown sparkled on the far edge of the lake, and somewhere a train sounded its horn as

it passed through the city.

"For the most part," he said, and the way he shifted hid his features behind the brim of


17/33

his hat hid his face for a moment. She took a step sideways and discovered with a slight

stumble that the trunk of the tree was just centimeters next to her.

"I have been lonely lately," he added softly, turning back to her, eyes refocusing on her

face.

"No girlfriend? No wife?" Deidre asked, nervously. These were questions she usually,

emphatically, insisted on gaining answers to with absolute veracity before she even agreed

to a date. Yet, here was this mystery man, Alex Ross, seducing her... and she'd forgotten

to ask.

"No," he said.

"Nosignificantother?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," she muttered, feeling foolish again. There was no way she was going to ask

if he was gay. There was not one ounce of him that came across that way. But still, one

never knew...

"There's no one," he told her decisively.

"Do you mean, in all that time...." She meant to playfully argue with him, set up a verbal

wall so she could have time to think about what she wanted to happen next. It was a last

defense of restraint she could think of, given the sultry look that had returned to his face;but Alex left no more chance for comment. Pressing her gently against the trunk, his

mouth came down sweetly upon hers. Only then did Deidre succumb, floating away from

herself in the sensation of an elevator dropping out from under her feet; and when his

tongue probed for willingness, the oscillation of her heart quickened, until all she knew

was the urge to kiss him back.

When the first bright current passed, Alex parted slightly from her, lips grazing, noses

bumping, both of them still very much in the kiss. He held her loosely, aware of her

curves through her clothing, delighting in the way she leaned against him. They stood in a

mold of arms and torsos, gulping slightly as they tried to catch their breath. He didntknow about her, but feeling her respond had confirmed the strength of connection. There

couldnt be any other way to describe it. Every gesture, every look, every laugh shouted

that she was meant to be with him.

Deidre turned her mouth back to his and when she spoke, she sounded breathless. We

barely know each other, she whispered in wonder.


18/33


19/33

Deidres ears.

You been taking your medication like youre supposed to, right? Grant was now close

to them, and she could see that he wore blue jeans and a t-shirt that said Beam me up,

Scotty, theres no intelligent life here.

Get lost, Zach, Alex warned.

Not until you promise to make it back to the halfway house on your own, Zack

reasoned with a light tone, and for a few seconds they squared off, gleeful laughter on one

face, irritation and frustration on the other.

Arent you going to introduce me? Deidre asked to break the moment. Alex gave her

an embarrassed look and motioned to the bearded man. This is Zach, and shut his

mouth tight.

Aaaaand? Grant asked incredulously when nothing more was forthcoming. Aw,

cmon, Alex. Youre not going to introduce me to your lovely friend? Fine. Ill do it

myself. Im Zach Grant. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Im Deidre Montgomery. Nice to meet you, she replied and slipped her arm through

the crook in Alexs. Hands still in pocket, he tucked his elbow close to his body, pressing

her arm to his side in a silent thank you.

Seriously, my friend isnt giving you any trouble, is he? Cause I can run him downtown

if hes being a pain in the

No, no, thats okay, Deidre cut him off hastily. Im in good hands.

Zachs eyebrows rose until Deidre thought they were going to disappear in his brow line.

Watch it, Zach, Alex growled again, as if he knew exactly what his friend was thinking.

Youll be in curfew yourself if certain parties were to hear a repeat.

With a soft whistle, Zach lowered his eyebrows and turned to Deidre. I think Alex hereis giving me my cue to leave, although hes not much more subtle than a Glock upside the

head, he grumbled.

Thatd be about right, Alex intoned, meaningfully.

Hey, you got a way home? Grant went from snickering antagonism to casual inquiry.


20/33

No, Alex replied, in equal measure, but Deidre could still feel how tense he was.

Probably for the same reason she was. Was gonna call a cab. You offering?

Yeah, man, hop on in. And you, fair lady?

Ohthank you, but I have my own carAlex, walk me back before you go?

Alex ignored Grants smirk behind Deidres back as they moved past the cop-car, where

the driver sat reading a magazine, looking very bored. Grant called out about getting back

on the beat soon, but Alex placed his hand at Deidres waist again and crossed the road

with her without acknowledging. The car she drove, a blue Chevrolet sedan, sat facing the

shopping strip where the Coffee Niche was. Fortunately there werent any cars by hers

and it was in a relatively dark spot of the parking lot. One more kiss

Thank you for the coffee, Deidre murmured, after she had opened her car door and

thrown her purse in.

Id like to have another cup with you some time, he replied, stepping into the door-

space with her. Maybe share dinner with you before the coffee?

She smiled up at him, an echo of the pleasure he had seen on her face while they talked.

Does that mean I get to learn more about you? she asked, playing with the collar of his

coat.

Sure. I keep my medications in a box marked emergencies under the bed and theres ahalf-way house around the corner. Sometimes, they let me come back, he quipped,

playing with one of her stray curls, and she laughed, which was what he wanted.

Hes she began, looking over at the waiting Zach.

Obnoxious, he finished.

A good friend of yours?

You might say that. Know more about each other than most people suspect of their ownkin.

Thatskind of scary, Deidre joked.

Not really. Not with my bunch, Alex replied and, with his hand cupping her face, he

bent down to capture her mouth once more in a light kiss, lingering enough to promise a

return of what theyd shared.


21/33

Tell me this isnt just a one night thing, Deidre said when they reluctantly broke. Her

golden eyes looked large in the dim light. She bit her lower lip, embarrassed that she had

let that thought slip out.

Give me your phone number and Ill tell you tomorrow, he smiled in return.

She gave him one of her cards and he wrote his number on the back of a separate one.

Alex saw that Zach had opened the back door of the police car and was bending to talk to

the driver. Probably telling him to sound off the siren again. Ah, but it was just as well, he

sighed inwardly. Now that he had cooled some, he realized the tree was the last place he

wanted to lose himself with her. She deserves better than that

Tomorrow, then, she said; kissed him on the cheek and slid into her seat. He waited

until she was locked in and buckled up before turning to re-cross the street. He then saw

her pull out of the parking lot and drive off into the dark street as he plunked himselfdown in the back seat of the cop car.

Youre something else, Ross, Zach was saying as he closed the door and they drove off.

Alex just grunted in reply, trying to think of a way to settle into the back seat while

examining for unpleasant surprises. Hed heard Zach and Bud talk often enough of the

low-life that had no qualm or reservations in relieving themselves or vomiting all over the

back seat on the way back to the station.

Tim Childers, Zach said, pointing to his partner as he answered a call on the policeradio. My friend, Alex Ross.

Dont worry, Childers said. The last guy I had back there was arrested for

shoplifting.

Yeah? Thanks. I was wonderin.

Cant stand it when someone smells up my unit, the officer added.

Or worse, Zach chuckled.

Ha, dont remind me, Childers said. So how long you know this bum? he asked Alex,

nodding at his temporary partner.

A while, was the non-committal answer. Alex pulled out Deidres card and began

examining it in the flickering light that came from passing cars: clean, elegant lettering, the

museum logo in the corner; home, office, cell numbers. Such sparse descriptives of a


22/33

woman who was so vibrant in his mind already

Didnt know you were on another ride-along tonight, Zach. He said, to keep the

conversation going.

Yeahwellthe release is still good another monthand I enjoy it. I miss a lot of it,you know.

Alex just nodded, did not volunteer anything to that. Zach probably avoided mention of

the Point at all possible timesand so did he.

Too bad you had to get out on disability, Childers commiserated and Alex realized he

was referring to Zachs cover story for his FBI background.

Im just glad your department doesnt mind me doing this, Zach said.

Hey, anything for another cop.

They crawled out of the unit when they got to the station Zachs shift ended with their

return and into his truck. Alex had hoped Zach would be too tired or too caught up in

whatever police matters had consumed his undercover work to give him a hard time, but

as soon as the doors slammed shut, discovered he would have no such luck.

So?

Alex looked over at Zach, who was slouched in his seat, wrist draped over the top of thewheel as he steered onto the highway.

So what? He wasnt going to make it easy for him.

Sowhat? Cmon, manthis is your brother youre talking to. Spill.

I dont have anything to spill.

Whos the babe?

The babe happens to be a lady, and if you didnt catch her name the first time, youre

shit out of luck, Alex informed him.

Yeah, but whered you meet her?

I dont think I care for where youre going with this.


23/33

Aw, Alex, dont be an asswipe. Why havent we seen her around the Point? And what

the fuck does she see in you?

Alex chose not answer. He was thinking he wouldnt get much sleep tonight.

Tell me what you said to convince her to go out with you.

Looks like Im gonna have to tell Buggy that youre scoping someone other than her,

Alex cautioned, which got the desired reaction.

Hey, Im faithful, man! Zach got really agitated now.

Yep, thats what you need, Alex drawled, a good ass-chewing in Klingonese to keep

you in line.

Watch it, Ross!

Alex chuckled. If Zach had been in the hot seat, he would be put ting up just as big a fight

in answering nosy questions.

Soyou like her, huh? the former FBI agent tried again after several moments of

silence.

Alex watched the sequence of lights dwindle as they left the city limits, rolled down the

window and let the cool of the night flow over his face. Something had occurred back

there at the caf table. He was baffled by it. It was more than attraction: it was the kind offeeling that occurred only inside the bounds of the Pointor was supposed to, at any

rate.

Was Deidre a connection? Did the Magic reach that far away from the Point? In all his

years in that place, it was something he had not heard of happening at all with his

Brothers.

All the more reason to keep the cards close to the vest, he thought.

Yeah. I do, he finally replied, not trusting Zack to understand.

Tell me this isnt just a one night thing

Nope. Definitely wouldnt get any sleep tonight.


24/33

Three

In his dreams, the Nagasaki bomb never ended. It was as black and white as the pictureshe took, his feet slowly tread through piles of debris, trying to find common

groundburnt wood, charred metal, blackened bonegray gray grayendlessand

silenceexcept for his footsteps, and his heart, and the click of his camera. What couldhe notlook at and feel? He sensed fellow Marines stalking the devastation with him, butwhen he looked, he was all alone; and the wreckage went on and on, into a long valley of

death

A spot of blue caught his eyeyes, this always happenedhe bent down to pick it upand something blew across his handa card, with the queen of heartshe stood and

watched it flutter away, down a path into the ruins. Even though he wanted to go back tothe bit of blue, he followed it, feet trippingthe gray around him turned to rust

So is this the way youre going to handle it?

Myra! Alex stood stock-still, blinking at the woman in yellow in front of him. Her

mouth was a pert red apostrophe in the light. When was the last time hed seen her? Hedidnt know whether to be pleased or concerned. For a moment, he fretted: had she seen

the valley? Protection warred with a desire to show her maybe then shed understand

Is this the way youre going to handle it? She repeated, one arm akimbo, and a look ofcool disgust on her face.

Handle what? Im fine, he retorted, offended by the implication that he couldnt handle

it whatever it wasthe dream? The nightmares? The perpetual vision of blastedbones, bones of buildings, bones of a life before, bones of children

They were now facing each other across a round table, littered with junk, and items Alex

did not want to guess at.

Im not a part of this anymore, you know, he said, as Myra sat down in a chair.

Part of what? Its only me, she said, shuffling cards on the table.

This. He sat his own weary bones down in the other chair, steeling himself for a hugefight. They were in the little Mexican hotel, the cantina, again, as if he and she had

stayed up well beyond the dancing and singing of the others, the Doc nowhere to befound. Im not here anymore. Not he looked around, thinking of the Crowes

Tavern, in the same place.

Myra indulged him with a knowing smile.

Dont guess you want to pick a card, then, do you? she asked.


25/33

No. Alex began to feel antsy. One thing was clear: Myra wasnt her usual self, either.Before, when he dreamt of her, longing clung to her like a favorite perfume. Now, she

seemed so distant, as if she had stepped beyond her role, into a different worldlike hehad. He wanted to ask her where she had been, but she had other things on her mind.

Orare you here to ask for my permission? She leaned forward and challenged himwith Lauren Bacall eyes.

Permission for what? Alex huffed. I told you, Im not

You left it there for a reason.

In a flash, he knew she was speaking of the Nagasaki cup, the one he managed to rescuebefore she destroyed it in the film, had taken back to his apartment at the Tavern. The

one he deposited in that little antique store, in a bid for peace, to disperse the nightmaresthat had inexplicably returned after years of silence. If he got rid of the items that

haunted himhis own bit of magicor anti-magicthen hed end it for sure. It wasntas if he couldnt go and get another onehe could flood the market with little cups like

that, it made no difference to him, not if it helped him stop the nightmares

He got the distinct impression that this Myra was here to keep him from doing just that.

Its not serendipity if youre looking for it, Myra said, before he could counter.

Who says Im lookin for anything? Alexs thoughts returned to the valley of death, ofthe horror of a city laid to waste, and how he would always, always, always walk it. How

he would always look for some sign of hope, some sign of lifeand how that little touchof blue seemed to be it

With a sigh, he had to admit: lookin for a way out, Myra

She held up a card.

Ace of Cups. Its not only a container from which something flows, but can be used to

capture something, collect it, hold it.

Alex watched it flutter across the table towards him, wondering what she was getting at.

Im not a part of this anymore, he repeated, as if getting it across to her depended onhow emphatically he stated it.

Nonot here, not this place. Not even Nagasaki. Yet you keep coming back. Why?

I dunno. Alex felt truly abashed and flummoxed. From the first few days of living at

the Point, hed been coming to terms with the fact that what he had known was not real,not in the sense that hed ever imagined itbut then the whole experience with Myra had


26/33

been something of a contorted dream as well, fragments of who she was confronting him,challenging him. Hed been simply grateful shed returned to his arms, but now

He took a deep breath to steady himself. It had taken time to grow accustomed to a new

dream, one in which others looked like just like him, but were drawn from disparate

dreams themselves. This had created new, unsettling truths, ones hed found some wayor another of pushing asidebut it always came back to that cupalways

Its the magic. Myra whispered the answer to an unspoken question, looking verypleased with herself. You carried it with you and its what drew her to you.

Her. There could be no mistaking the reference Myra made to the woman at the

museumDeidre, with a tousled abandon of russet hair and a brilliant smile that couldfuel him all the way into next week. Nothing like Myra at all. Myra, who had slinked

her way into his life, cast her spell

He felt like a jerkwhy hadnt he gone back?

Look, Myra, I didnt... he began, feeling pangs of remorse.

come here to reminisce, she finished for him. She was good at that. No. And youshouldnt. Thats a magic separate from this now, acup of yesterday, one you and I

dont share anymore. Not when you have a cup of tomorrow.

Alex just looked at her, unable to reply. She was paraphrasing a favorite World War IIpoem to him, a poem written and published on the internet by a veteran.

With an expression on her face that brooked no further discussion, she continued, setting

out an empty cup and then ignoring what it collects is the worst thing you can do.

Youre not making sense, Slim, he complained. He was tired of this dream now. Hedidnt want to go back to the shattered gray landscape of Nagasaki, but he felt a certain

desperation, as if the clue to where he waswho he waslay there. Myra was justconfusing him. She was good at that, too.

Im saying, Myra intoned, standing up suddenly, and Alex saw she was dressed in

Huichol robes, a shamans belt, and hat. An owl hooted in the corner. If you want whatthe bowl has to offer, go get it. You dont need me to tell you what to do with it. Its

your magic. Drink it.

She pointed to the playing suite of cards shed left on the table. The pictures hadchanged: a man on a chair with a cup, a woman beneath a star, a man with a knapsack, a

card of lovers embracing.

What are those? he asked, but Myra only reached out her hand and brushed his cheekwith her fingertips.


27/33

Good-bye, Alex, she said, smiling at him. Dont ignore it. Drink it.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Deidre put a lot of credence in the philosophy of a former professors advice. He claimedthat gluing fragments of bone or pottery to reconstruct their original shape was goodtherapy for whatever ailed the soul. And it was true: she came to value the exercise as a

means of sorting out and filing away those issues in her mind that refused to resolvethemselves. It was those hours of therapy that had ultimately landed her job as an

assistant to the curator in Abner Grove; those hours centered her, helped her focus onconcrete tasks.

At least, it had always worked before.

Girl, I do notknow what cloud youre on, but if you get any higher, Im gonna have to

launch a balloon party. You aregone!

Deidre looked up from a haze of reminiscing, of reliving her first meeting with Alex, thememory of his closeness, down to the warmth of him as he held her, blanking out all

surroundings. Her assistant, Tracey, stood on the other side of the table and watched herwith amusement. She held in her arms a stack of binders that could only mean

submissions for new exhibits. Deidre felt color flood her cheeks and nearly dropped thepottery piece she had been stippling with glue.

IIm sorryI dont know whats come over me, she stammered with

embarrassment. Have a million things on my mind

Seems to me those million things have everything to do with that man you went outwith, Tracey hedged with a meaningful look.

Oh, you think so?

Uh huhwhen do I get to meet him?

UmIm not sure

When was the last time you heard from him?

Not long agoa few daysalmost a weekOh dear, Tracey sighed, then wisely changed the subject. Brought the Board

proposals. Any guesses on what theyre about? She watched as Deidre began to flipthrough them in half-hearted interest.

Well, I recall one of them being a collection of masks, Deidre replied, concern


28/33

morphing to more immediate matters. It had taken a year to convince the members, (adeeply conservative group of custodians, if ever there was one) that she knew what she

was doing when she pressed for the Pacific Theatre exhibit to take a detour to AbnerGrove. Even now, when she was raking in the kudos, she knew the stack of proposals

before her would not have the nostalgia of the World War II exhibit. She would have to

spend the next week or so second-guessing the Boards willingness to try new things.Deidre would not buck their need for tradition and restraint: she hated controversy forcontroversys sake. It was just she also chafed at the idea of simply being a custodian of

the same-old-same-old. A successful museum survived on the creativity of itspresentation and that was the purpose for which she was hired. Or so they had said.

Masks? As in costume masks? Tracey had proved remarkably efficient and

supportive, but museums were the last career of choice for the twenty-something co-ed.She began as a front desk greeter, selling tickets and directing traffic, then inquired for a

higher paying position to help fund college. Any interest in history was purely for thesake of getting the job done. I still say it would be neat to have one of those Hollywood

film exhibits, like they did for Star Wars, or Lord of the Rings

Deidre grinned. It would, but the day Mr. Crossier agrees to it is the day some of thosecharacters come to life and walk around...and even then, Im not so sure it would go over

very well.

Tracey was tickled by that idea. Mmm-mmm, have Mark Ruffalo walk my way

When she sat down at her desk, Deidre shoved aside the clutter of artifacts and bindersand began to go through the folders, hoping to put her mind in order through distraction.

But thoughts of Alex still intruded: a game of phone tag had commenced the day aftertheir first meeting and then, nothing. She was no ingnue when it came to men, no

school-girl ready to throw herself into a deep depression after an hour of silence. Sheunderstood the game, understood how touchy men and women could be in the first blush

of a connection. But Alex had felt so differentlike he was from a different time andwould at least be a gentleman about his intentions.

Should she wait a little longer before calling again? Maybe she was being too

pushymaybe he had woken up the next morning and realized it was going too fast.Had he panicked? Maybe he just decided he wasnt that into her after all

Soya think he might come by again? Tracey asked, carefully unwrapping a sandwich

for lunch. She sat at her own worktable, looking as innocent as a gossip columnist.

Deidre buried her face in her hands.

Am I doing it again?

Yes!


29/33

God, Im pathetic! Deidre growled in frustration.

Oh, Deedont be so hard on yourself Tracey crooned, turning serious at last.Hes probably busy.

I guess... Deidre straightened up in her chair, squared her shoulders. If worse came toworse, shed just have to chalk it up as bad judgement on her part and learn not to lookfor openings among the strangers that came to the museum. His loss, if he doesnt show

up, right?

Right, Tracey said around a bite of her sandwich. Im gonna to miss you, she added,wistfully.

At first Deidre accepted her statement face value: Tracey would be going back to school

soon, and the hours may compete with her work schedule. But something in her tonemade the curator look up and watch her assistants expression.

Something wrong?

Tracey took several long minutes to finish swallowing and wash it down with juice; took

a deep breath before replying. Im pregnant.

Deidre felt her eyes grow wide as Tracey went on, Im okay with ityknow? Mattsgonna be supportivemight even get marriedbut, you knowImwere both in

shock, and I may have to wait to go back to school, or try to shove in as much school as Ican before the baby comes. Anyway, Tracey concluded with a slightly soggy laugh,

your plans to make me a Museum Sidekick have been foiled again!

Deidre was out of her seat before Tracey finished her speech and threw her arms aroundthe girl, who sat quietly for a moment, patting her arm, sniffing.

I dont want you to go! Deidre told her, pulling another chair closer. We can work

something out! I know we can. Its quiet back here, and you can bring the baby, set it upin a little bouncy chair. When we get bored, we can put on the masks and dance for it

Matts talking of moving, Tracey mumbled through reluctant giggles, giving up on her

sandwich for the moment to wipe away tears with her napkin. Since he got out of themilitary, hes been trying to find a job, and hes not having luck here. Says he might go

home to Kansas Citysays he knows more people therewhich means Ill go withhim

Deidre heard footsteps echo in the open doorway of the collections room and straightened

in her seat, a small gasp escaping her lips. The door was not supposed to be left open, butthe required temperatures for conservation often made the two of them feel they were in a

glorified refrigerator locker. Leaving it open allowed some of the air to flow outside andprovide relief from cold noses and fingers. Usually no one said anything, not even the


30/33

Lead Curator, but one glance at the mans face told her that, for today, every infractionwas going to count against the person in his path.

Mr. Crossier, I thought you were out of town, she said, wondering belatedly if she had

her calendar all wrong. We were just

I was, but Ineeded to come back, the Lead Curator replied in a distracted manner.Arlen Crossier was on the far end of middle age, sliding quickly into elderly status, only a

few years away from retirement. A shock of white hair in an old-fashioned cut, usuallyneatly combed and oiled back from his face, hung on his forehead as if he had spent the

last hour pulling at it in anxiety. He usually dressed in middle-grade business suitscomplete with vests and always smelled of Aqua Velva and peppermint. I havesome

new items for our inventory, he added, indicating the large box in his arms. He added,dont worry. Ive already had them appraised. They just need cataloguing

andstorage.

Well, this is a pleasure, Deidre exclaimed as she took the box from him and took it toan empty shelf to wait with two other boxes he had delivered. Someones been a busy

bee.

You should get on it as soon as possible, Ms. Montgomery. Arlens voice returned toits crisp, no-nonsense tone as he straightened up himself, as if he had unloaded more than

just a box. I have reports I need to fill out for next months meeting.

Yes, sir, Deidre replied humbly, watching the man turn briskly on his heel anddisappear into the hallway.

Ya think hes in a hurry? Tracey quipped with a slight sneer. She didnt think much of

the stuffy old man.

I have been needing to get to those boxes, Deidre sighed, returning to her work-table,her mind swirling back to earlier troubles. Maybe it was a good thing Alex had not been

more forthcoming. From the looks of things, she wasnt going to have much time forsocialization anyway. She gave the phone one more longing glance, wanting nothing

more than to luxuriate in the excitement of newfound romance. Well, then,Traceyshall we get back to our favorite brand of torture and catalogue these

suckers?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alex clicked off the monitor of his computer and sat back in the rickety wood rollerchair, stretching his legs until the chair tilted back, its cogs emitting a long high-pitched

squeal. He felt energized in a way he had not been for some time. The burgeoningsuccess of a lead on a story he had been chasing around cyberspace for some time now

was opening doors in ways he had never anticipated. Nothing was more satisfying to anewshound like him than a juicy story.


31/33

Damned if all that had not kept him with his nose to the keyboard or his ear to the phone

call of someone without Deidres voice. Hed tried a few times to call her at themuseum, but he had lousy timing, it seemed. Since that time, hed become so caught up

in the several projects, that by the time he could take a breath to call her, it was too late in

the day. He would have to make it a point to go over there, he mused, stretching a bitmore. That is, if shell still speak to me. It was going to be hard to explain away thesilence he could hardly explain it to himself. It had felt so right to hold her and be with

her, and yet here he was three days later and they hadnt talked.

It was his fault, he decided. He had to tell her how he thought of her a million times aday, tonight. Had to tell her there were a hundred conversations he wanted to have with

her, quite a lot of those the kind one shared in bedbut there would be time enough forthat.

If only the dreams he had been having didnt keep creeping back into his thoughts. They

had changed somehow, as if a message imparted was trying worm its way into hisconscience. As if something had yet to let go before he could really step up to Deidre

and ask for her attention.

Whatever valleys his thoughts might delve, he was brought sharply back to the presentbecause of the chime of his clock, reminding him of a meeting with a contact that could

prove very productive for his current investigation. Launching himself out of the chair,he buzzed around his flat to spiffy up, checking buttons, combing his hair. Then he

slipped on his jacket, plopped the ever-trusty fedora on his head, swept up a notebookand pen and breezed out the door to the Tavern below.

His spotted his contact, Jordan, sitting in an isolated booth, ramrod straight, hand

gripping a scotch and soda with tight control, watching the scene outside the windowoverlooking the wide bay of the Point. He didnt look away as Alex moved through the

Tavern and greeted Andy at the bar, Jeff Wigand and Bud at another table, Jim Braddockwith a few of his boxing students, and Adalia as she conferred with one of her suppliers.

Aside from them, the Tavern was relatively empty, as it normally was on a Fridayafternoon, the calm before the storm. Everyone knew where everyone else was at this

time: the Captain and Maddy out on the Surprise, Cort and Chloe at the Retreat, Johnbeetling around the Point; Johnny, Hando, olin, and several others in various stages of

car maintenance at the garage. God only knew where Terry was. Max Skinner wasprobably trying to impress the new librarian, Laurie Drake when he wasnt harassing

Maximus about the vagaries of winemaking; and no one ever really wanted to keep upwith SIDbut so far, Lacey had been doing a damn good job at keeping him at

acceptable levels of borishness with her new programming. He also knew Tina washelping prepare for the impending arrival of two new Brothers later this fall: Ben Wade

and Richie Roberts, something that seemed to take up more and more of her time lately.

At the tableside, he grinned at Jordan as the man extended his hand in greeting. I seeyouve made yourself comfortable.


32/33

Yeahinteresting spot you got here. They have surf-boarding? Look at those waves!

Jordan asked, admiration for the beach view outside the window. He had a surfers look,too, Alex mused privately a well-baked-in bronzing of his features and hair. But he

was more interested in what the man had gleaned from his reconnaissance than sharing

what he knew about the Point.

Come out any time, he told the man. Drinks on me, by the way. I know several

people whod love to have a new surfer to compete against.

Thatd be cool. Do you?

No, Alex laughed. Ive got an aversion to sand in my shorts and dents in my head.He motioned to the waitress to bring him a drink as well and pulled out his notebook.

Id have never known you were out here, Jordan went on in awe. Not if you hadnt

told me about it. I thought I came out this way all the time and knew the area, but I tookthat turn you gave me and here I am!

Alex grinned at him again, hoping his next words didnt sound too rote explaining or

excusing the Point was second nature now. Were just a little resort with a privacyclause. People find us when they want toand if not, then were not what theyre

looking for. Clearing his throat, he clicked his pen to indicate he was ready to do hispart of the meeting and write down the pertinent facts he came for. I take it you have

the wire on something Im interested in.

Oh, yeah, Jordan said, reverie broken at last. Look, manI dont do this often, okay?I dont meet with someone in public very often. I like the secrecy of the Net. Still

relative, you know? Im good at blocking out my identity and what I have to share.Theres a reason I dont have my picture anywhere on the grid, cause if I did, someone

would see it or find it and the next thing you know, Im being chased down a back alleyor something. And I have other contacts to protect. So dont look me up. Jordans not

even my real name.

Alex nodded, kept his expression serious. Hell, this wasnt James Bond, but there werecareers at stake and he knew all too well how one misplaced word, one unfounded

assertion could ruin someone for life. If he was going to bring anyone down, it had to bethose that were cruising for a bruising anyway.

You neednt worry about these people, he said, indicating the others in the room. I

chose this place and time for a reason I know them and they arent snoops. And itsbecause this place is sounknownto a majority of people, youve got anonymity in a

way you wont find anywhere else. If its the Internet you want to use, thats fine by me.You dont even have to let me know its Jordan or Mike or Donald Duck. Just as long as

the sources you give me check out. And thats my job to verify. We can have the


33/33

hushest of friendships as long as your sources are valid. Otherwise, we can both move onand no one will be the wiser.

Jordan nodded, looking slightly abashed and respectful of Alexs stand.

You ever go to museums, Alex? he asked, shifting into a more studious posture. Hiseyes glinted with keen interest.

Sometimes. He couldnt stop the image of a laughing Deidre from looming up in hismind. It was his turn to shift uncomfortably. Damn, the mere thought of her made his

blood rush!

You ever wonder how they acquire all those artifacts?

The corner of Alexs mouth quirked upwards. Ever wonder? Sometimes.

Youd be shocked.

That some bone collector somewhere likes to shell out the bucks for a dried piece ofpharaoh? Alex sounded bored. Wonder if I should mention the potion Doc was after?

Money has a lot to do with it, but not the way you think.

Drugs? Alex interrupted, thinking it would certainly be a blazing angle on a story.

No! Jordan replied, impatiently. Were talking big players here. But some of those

big players get into unexpected places because its harder to trace, harder to keep track,and easier to entice willing souls to help them hide the evidence. Museum fundings not

exactly an American past-time, you know?

Alex frowned thoughtfully. Unless one had big bucks to spend, most communities foundother things to spend their money on, cultural riches being the last. Hed talked with

Deidre often enough by now to get the gist of it.

So the Smithsonian may not be as firm in their standing in the community after all, eh?His mind was rushing already with the potential his big newsbreak, one that would get

his name out in the world and make it less hard for him to scrabble as a journalistcloistered in a place like the Point. Jordan must have some serious dirt on some higher-

ups to be this worried about losing his cover.

Oh, its not the Smithsonian were talking about, Jordan scowled. Its a little place,like I told you. One of the worst cases of theft and fraud youll ever see.

Spill it.

Youve probablyve never even heard of it. Museum called Abner Grove.

Documents

Serendipity Master