Milo...Plans
By Pattie Lawler
There were more than a few things Albany needed to make Milo aware of, not the least of
which regarded her contract, which ran through the end of May; her voice, acting, and
personal trainers; her concert schedule; and the assumption that she would be moving in
with him.
It was silly to think she wouldn’t, and
yet he hadn’t mentioned it.
She mentally wagged a finger at herself. You
haven’t mentioned it, either.
Dragging up an ice-covered Mercer Street, she forgave herself and began the
more interesting exercise of calculating when she would see him again.
Milo and she had agreed that when Fanny was well enough, he would take her home to
Owswell Magnum. Albany had also promised to support his decision—when he made it and
whether or not she agreed with it—regarding Fanny’s high school years.
Milo was in favor of Fanny attending a private school close to Owswell, based on
his belief that when ready to build her life, she would choose England over America. Albany
wasn’t surprised to learn that Fanny had inherited her parent’s manor, Whydah
Hall, but was surprised to learn that the house was currently being rented.
Milo simply shrugged. “When I became Fanny’s guardian, I swore that when
she came into her inheritance on her eighteenth birthday, her fortune would be at least
twice what Bellamy and Beth left. Joe could tell us the exact amount, but I know it’s
increased at least sixteen-fold since then.
“There’s no reason for Whydah to sit there and be a tax burden, but
it’s not mine to sell. It earns its keep plus a little extra, and I’m happy with
that. If, when she’s old enough, Fanny wants to sell, then it’s her
decision...hopefully made at an age where she’s able to decide on her own.”
“And what am I getting into?”
He held up a gloved hand, his fingers spread. “Owswell Magnum,” he pushed
a finger down with each property, “Scarlet Grange in Cornwall and Fairbanks in
Wiltshire...both working farms, Owswell Parvum in New York State, and the Condé Nast
chain which owns the penthouse.”
Albany boggled. “You own the
penthouse?”
Milo grinned. “You really should have married me for my money.” He bent,
his forehead pressed to hers. “I have tons.”
But he was just as surprised to learn what she was worth.
“Opera pays well,” he murmured when she gave him her portfolio to deliver
to Joe.
“No. Having few friends, an anemic social life and a booked schedule means I
have little time or inclination to squander. My major expenses are gowns and training,
both of which are tax deductible. The only traveling I do is for the theater, which they
pay for. Before you abducted me to France, I think the last time I took a vacation was the
summer between senior year and college.”
He grinned at her. “I did abduct you, didn’t I?”
“It’s nothing to be proud of!”
“You’re laughing.”
She turned away to hide the fact, and he caught her around the middle, hugging her.
The recollection made her smile and she was about to recalculate the hours before
his return when the Queen of the Night’s aria from her coat pocket pushed everything
from her mind. She scrambled for her cell and flipped it open. “I love you.”
“Still?”
“Lemme check.”
“While you do, look up.”
She paused on the icy flagstones, her heart pounding as Milo emerged from her
doorway.
“I have to go,” she whispered into the phone. “My boy toy is here
and I don’t want you to catch us together.”
“Boy toy?” He snapped his phone closed.
She nodded, closed her phone and resumed walking. “I’m keeping you a
secret from my fiancé. I don’t think he’d appreciate the competition.”
“The jealous type?”
They came together, and Albany pressed against him as his arms encircled her.
“I missed you.”
“Surprised to see me?”
“More pleased than surprised.”
“Well, I had a brainstorm and couldn’t wait for a phone call. I wanted to
tell you in person.”
“So a seven-hour flight later you call
me?” She shook her head before changing the subject. “How’s
Fanny?”
“She misses you and better, thank you.”
“Good.”
“Invite me in?”
“It’ll cost you.”
Still holding her, he swung them around and
began walking toward her apartment, dragging her along.
<0>
“So what was the brainstorm?”
“I thought” he struck a contemplative pose, “we should get
married.”
“Funny, I had that same thought.”
“And then I thought—”
“Same day?”
“No. The next.”
“So as not to strain the system?”
He nodded, resettling his arms around her. “I thought, we should pick out a
ring. You know, cement the deal.”
“Now that is funny. I had that exact
same thought.”
“And then the next day, I thought we
should shop at the Met.”
She rose up enough to meet his eyes. “I didn’t have that thought.
Explain, please.”
“My fiancée—”
“The one with the boy toy?”
“Oh. Have I mentioned her?”
She nodded. “And the boy toy.”
“Yes, that one. She’s an opera singer.”
“Bor-ring!”
He laughed, hugging her. “She’s got a great voice and seems a classical
sorta gal. So I thought, Self, we should go to the Met, look at the great masters and see
if there’s a ring in some painting, lithograph or sculpture that catches our
eye.”
“And rather than wait for your scheduled return…”
“I decided to surprise her.”
“And the boy toy.”
“Thereby overwhelming her with my barnacle-like need to be with her.”
Albany nodded, drawing the covers tighter across her shoulder. “This is my cue
to share that I too suffer some aquatic fauna’s need to be with you, but since
lampreys and barnacles are taken, I haven’t settled on a creature yet.”
“Limpets are available.”
“I don’t know what a limpet is.”
“Me neither. So, will you come out with me tomorrow? According to your
schedule, you’re free…unless that’s changed, in which case, I can
wait.”
“I will if you wear your leather pants.”
He hugged her again. “I’ll pick you up at 4.”
“You do know the museum closes at
4:45.”
“Which means we only have a few minutes to put up with the maddening
crowd—”
“They made an opera of that.”
“Any good?”
“Not a clue.”
“Ah. Well, getting back...the museum closes to the public at 4:45. I haven’t had a chance to
impress you with my connections in whole hours
so I thought, here was a golden opportunity.”
She yawned. “I’m suitably impressed.”
“As demonstrated by that terrific yawn.”
Smiling, she rose up enough to kiss him before falling asleep.
<0>
As soon as the car stopped, Milo’s door opened and Albany wasn’t surprised to
hear Milo’s name in greeting.
Rising from the car, Milo called out, “Kevin!” while reaching for her.
Standing beside him, she faced an older man with a magnificent mane of thick, silver hair.
“Albany Wendel,” Milo went on, “allow me to present Kevin Dillard,
curator of the Met.”
Smiling, she extended her hand. “We’ve actually met, Mr. Dillard, though
I don’t expect you to remember.”
“Oh, but I do.” Kevin grinned, leaning toward her and gripping her hand.
“I had the pleasure of hearing you sing at the donors’ holiday party.”
Her smile grew. “I’m flattered you remember!”
“It was a memorable performance.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” Milo interjected.
“Yes,” Kevin said, releasing Albany’s hand and turning toward Milo.
“Well, you have been MIA for months.”
Milo laughed and bent to Albany’s ear. “He’s kidding. We spoke this
afternoon.”
But Kevin frowned. “No. Seriously. It’s been months, Milo.”
Milo softly snorted, as if to prolong the joke. “Kevin, I spoke to you today!
I called to let you know we were coming. Why else would you be here, if not to greet
us?”
“Sorry, Milo. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m only
here because I have a meeting.” He twisted his wrist free of his coat to glance at
his watch. “In half an hour. If I don’t go now, I’ll be late.” He
looked up. “You two have fun and remember to turn the lights off when you
leave.” With a wink at Albany, he hurried to his waiting car.
“That was odd,” Albany murmured, raising her hand as Kevin waved in
passing.
“Yes, it was. I did call him, and we
talked about an upcoming opening. How he could so completely forget is—”
“Life with Milo.”
He looked down to see her grinning at him and smiled. “Are you saying I’m
totally forgettable?”
“I’m saying you’re surrounded by a field of weirdness that sucks
people in.” She threw herself against him, and he caught and hugged her.
Simon appeared before them, holding the door to the museum and nodding at the
security guard. “I spoke to Williams. It’s a light night. About twenty patrons,
including us.”
“Excellent!” Milo crowed. “Come on.” He caught her hand.
“After we check our coats, I wanna start in the Greek wing. There’s a thumb ring
on display that would be a bracelet on you.”
<0>
They hadn’t gotten far when Milo was hailed by another colleague. As they
paused, waiting for the jogging man to join them, Milo whispered in Albany’s ear,
“I should have said seven and avoided everyone.”
“Good God, Milo,” he man said, puffing as he extended his hand. “You
couldn’t have arrived at a better moment. If I had had a second to think, I would
have called you.”
Milo smiled as he shook hands, his free hand rising to gesture to Albany. “Sam
Goldwin, allow me to present Albany Wendel, my fiancée.”
Sam’s gaze flicked between the couple, as if for signs of laughter.
“Fiancée?”
His affronted tone raised Albany’s eyebrow. “Why so surprised?”
Shaking his head, Sam blushed as he stepped back. “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just...the last time I spoke to you,” he
glanced at Milo, “you were dating Joanne.”
Both Milo and Albany gaped at him before looking at each other and back at Sam.
Milo forced himself to speak. “Sam! That was more than eight years ago!”
Sam retreated another step. “It was last week, Milo! You told me...” His
gaze returned to Albany and he paused. “Anyway. Do you have a moment? There’s an
acquisition I’d like your opinion on.”
Milo turned to Albany. “It’s up to you.”
She shook her head and kissed his chin. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”
He kissed her back, glanced toward Simon to make sure he was still with them, and
trailed Sam as the curator hurried around a column.
“I’m thinkin’ their acquisition is a time machine,” Albany
murmured as Sam held open a door marked employees only.
“Localized to employees,” Milo agreed, taking her hand to bestow a kiss
to its back. “Or at least limited to those exposed to it.”
“Funny you should say that,” Sam said, catching the exchange in the quiet
hall. “I know a first edition of H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine was recently purchased, but I
don’t think it’s arrived yet.”
“Was it part of an estate?” Milo asked. “There might have been other
pieces that are already here and wreaking havoc.”
Sam looked over his shoulder, his brow creased. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I spoke to Kevin Dillard this afternoon, not months
ago like he thinks, and I know I haven’t
seen Joanne in at least eight years.”
“What year is it?” Albany suddenly asked.
Sam paused, his frown deepening as he turned to face the trio. “2004.”
“He’s jumped from 1999 to 2004 since we left the museum,” Milo
murmured, stepping back, his gaze sweeping the hall as his arm rose to shield Albany.
“Simon, take Albany home!”
“No!” she screamed, releasing his hand. “Stay with him! I’ll
get a taxi!” She didn’t wait for a reply, but spun and ran for the door.
Milo waited until the door closed before he turned to Simon. “Whatever it is,
it must fade, either with distance or time. I’m sure Sam didn’t think it was
2004 when he came in this morning.”
Sam opened his mouth, but Milo held up a hand, silencing him.
“Go question Williams again, discreetly. Call me if you learn anything.”
With a nod, he dismissed his body guard. “Okay, Sam. What’cha got to show
me?”
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