A/N: *sheepish laugh* Hi. I'm way sorry that took so long. I have really lost my mind this week. Homework=not a party. I hope you're all doing well, and that you enjoy this chapter! :)
"You look great, Elizabeth," Neal assured her as he met her outside her front door in the cool, early evening air. She had been adjusting her necklace with uncharacteristic nervousness and stopped, giving Neal a smile. He grinned back then looked up at the house with concern.
"Peter's asleep," Elizabeth told him, guessing what he was thinking. "He still has a fever, but it's not as high as it was last night."
Neal nodded, slightly sheepish as being read so easily. "What about the cough?"
"It's still there," Elizabeth said with an edge of worry to her voice. "I think he'll be okay, but if he's still coughing when we get home I think I'll take him into the doctor."
"Hopefully you'll have better luck with that than I did," Neal said with a slightly joking smile. Elizabeth smiled and unlocked her shiny blue Volkswagen Bug. He shot her a look.
"Are you tired?" He asked her, noting her slightly sluggish movements.
"Oh, no," she said with an almost-easy smile. He raised one eyebrow and removed the keys gently from her hand.
"You forget, I'm an expert at detecting lies," he said with a faint smirk. "I can drive, you rest."
"Are you allowed to drive?" Elizabeth asked, not offering much protest as she sank into the passenger seat and closed her eyes. Neal guessed that Peter had been up most of the night, or at least had kept her up.
"We'll go with 'sometimes.' " Neal smiled slightly as he started the car and pulled it into the street.
"I can live with that," Elizabeth consented amusedly. "Thanks for coming with me."
"It's my pleasure," Neal said sincerely. Elizabeth cast him a grateful look before leaning her head back and closing her eyes once again. Neal let the quiet, peaceful feeling of the moment wash over him; it was currently only marred by worry for Peter and, of course, the ever-present mystery of the music box.
Neal appreciated the small mounted GPS on the dashboard, as he had no idea where they were going from the address. When they pulled up, however, he recognized it as a new art museum he'd heard about. He hadn't visited, since he didn't have a lot of free time lately, but it appeared to be nice. Another plus was that it was conveniently inside his radius. A fancy Grand Opening sign hung above the door.
"We're here," he said, nudging Elizabeth gently. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open and she smiled at him, shaking off the tiredness in her eyes.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said, chagrined.
"You were tired," Neal replied with an easy shrug. "That's why I drove."
"I appreciate it." They got out of the car, El fixing her hair from leaning on it, Neal straightening his fedora and deep red tie and brushing off his dark gray suit. He linked arms with Elizabeth as she smoothed a wrinkle out of her silky red dress.
"Ready?" He asked with a hint of warm teasing in his voice.
"Yes," she replied in the same tone. "Are you sure you don't need to fix your tie again?"
"My tie is fine," he protested, smoothing it dramatically for good measure. They both evened out their expressions and stepped to the man at the front. Elizabeth presented her invitation, which had been extended by a grateful client of Burke Premiere Events.
"Thank you," the sharply-dressed man said with a smile. "Enjoy the party."
Elizabeth nodded. "Thank you, we will." They continued into the clearly high-end building, and eyebrows rose as the interior was revealed. It was all smooth wooden floors and white drapes and soft lighting.
"Welcome to the Fagnani Art Museum," a red-headed man said in a friendly tone. "I'm Eric, my mother is our founder and curator."
"It's wonderful to meet you," Elizabeth said, shaking his hand. Neal smiled, also shaking it.
"Likewise," Eric said sincerely, smiling. "Feel free to look at any of our exhibits while you're here." The young man gave a slightly nervous nod before going off to greet someone else. Neal shook his head slightly.
"Poor boy, this has to be stressful for him," Elizabeth said sympathetically.
"He does look sort of stressed," Neal said, watching Eric shaking hands with an elderly couple and speak for a moment. "He's handling it pretty well, though."
"My Eric?" A slightly nasal voice came from behind them. They turned slowly to see a woman with similar red hair standing and looking at them with a quirked eyebrow. "Oh, no, he doesn't handle these situations well at all."
"Really? He seems alright, actually," Neal said.
"No, no, he's a complete novice," the woman Neal presumed to be Eric's mother insisted.
"If you say so," Elizabeth said, sensing that simply agreeing would be the best path here. The woman smiled and extended a manicured hand.
"Jill Fagnani," she said with an air of projected importance. "You must be Elizabeth. My sister spoke so highly of you. And is this your husband?" Neal shot Elizabeth a glance.
"I-"
The explanation was interrupted as Jill was summoned away by a middle-aged woman. Elizabeth shook her head slightly and they turned away.
"How a nice boy like Eric could come from a mother like her, I couldn't guess," she said.
"Aren't we judging a book by its cover?" Neal inquired, only half-seriously.
"In this case, I believe the cover to be an accurate representation," Elizabeth stated, rolling her eyes lightly.
"We'll see," Neal said. "But I think you're right." He lifted two glasses of champagne from a tray and offered one to her.
"Thank you," she murmured, taking one small sip. "So, if anyone asks again, you're-"
"Just a friend that came to keep you company," Neal said with a charming grin.
"Yes," Elizabeth said gratefully. "A very good friend." Neal's eyes dropped to the floor for a moment as he nodded.
"Right," he said, gaze snapping back up as he met hers with a smile. They continued to stroll through the crowd and Neal touched the brim of his fedora as they passed a group of women. Elizabeth continued another step to engage in a conversation with a couple she apparently knew, and Neal hung back. Whispers from the women behind him reached his ears.
"Isn't she that caterer?" One of them hissed.
"I think so. That man with her looks awfully rich."
"I think that's her husband."
This statement was met with a derisive snort. "I should say not. No, more likely he's some wealthy businessman that she's latched onto to get to his money. She looks the type to me." Neal's eyes narrowed slightly, unappreciative of the affront to Elizabeth.
"Either that or one of them is paying the other to be here," another put in. Just as Neal was about to turn around, Elizabeth finished talking to the couple and came back to join Neal.
"Sorry about that," she said with a smile. "We needed to catch up a bit." He nodded.
"Don't worry about it," he said. He noticed that she hadn't touched her champagne. "Would you like me to take that?" He asked.
"Oh. Sure," she said apologetically. "I'm not really in the mood." He nodded understandingly and took hers. He wasn't really in the mood, as she'd put it, either, and replaced both of them on an empty tray to be taken away. They began to move away from the crowd.
"Miss Burke," one of the not-so-friendly women said, touching her elbow with a very fake smile. "We simply must be introduced."
"Oh," Elizabeth said, looking slightly confused but nodding kindly. "And it's Mrs. Burke, actually."
"Oh, is this your husband?" A clearly pregnant woman asked innocently. Neal recognized her as the owner of the derisive snort.
"This is-"
"Neal Burke," Neal interrupted. It felt odd to say, but it was for the best. Attempting to explain the "friend" concept wouldn't work with these women. Elizabeth looked up at him, puzzled. He shot her a look. Just go with it. She nodded minutely. "It's a pleasure to be here."
"Ahh..." The woman seemed at a loss. Another of the women came from behind her and took over.
"Simply wonderful make your acquaintances," the blonde said in a similar fake-friendly tone. "I'm Tiffany Quinn."
"Lea Talbot," the pregnant woman said, having regained her speech. The others in the group were introduced as Winona Liszt, a tall, slim brunette; May Simmons, another redhead with similar mannerisms to Jill; Colette Maundre, a quiet, raven-haired woman; and Rachelle Whitt, a petite blonde who seemed to rather enjoy the champagne.
"It's nice to meet all of you," Elizabeth said, her typical warmth in her voice. They agreed with an insincerity that Neal was sure Elizabeth caught; it didn't influence her attitude toward them, and Neal respected her all the more for it.
They made casual conversation until the Burkes were finally able to finish politely and duck out. With a mutual feeling of relief, they walked up some airy stairs to see some of the art.
"That was unpleasant," Elizabeth commented as they stood in front of a beautifully done ocean scene.
"To say the least," Neal agreed. "You handled it very well."
"Practice with customers," Elizabeth said ruefully. "No matter how much they irritate you, be friendly toward them or they'll take their business elsewhere."
"Ah," Neal said. "Well, you're a very good actress, then."
"Thank you?" Elizabeth replied, not sounding entirely sure if she'd been complimented. Neal grinned at her and they continued to examine the art. It was much quieter upstairs, and the time until they could reasonably leave passed quickly. Neal drove again on the way home, as Elizabeth seemed even more tired than before, and helped her out of her car in the now-dark night.
"How will you get home?" She asked concernedly.
"I'll take a cab, don't worry," he said with a smile, taking her up to the door. "Thanks for having me come with you, Elizabeth, it was very nice."
"Thank you for coming," she replied. She unlocked her door and stepped inside. "I'll call and let you know how Peter's doing tomorrow."
"Thank you," Neal said. "Good night."
"Night."
Neal turned back to the New York street and hailed a cab, yawning several times on the ride home. He entered June's silent mansion and changed into his pajamas, dropping into bed and quickly falling asleep.
xxxxx
The next morning, Neal was awakened by a very unexpected sound; his cell phone was ringing. His first, slightly groggy thought was that it was Elizabeth calling to tell him that Peter had gotten drastically worse. Worry clenched in his stomach as he picked up the phone.
Clinton Jones, the screen read. Well, then, that couldn't be anything too bad. Clearing his throat, he answered it.
"Morning, Jones," he greeted.
"Neal." The man sounded slightly grim. Neal frowned. So much for nothing bad.
"Is something wrong?" He asked, voice still even.
"Yes," Jones said hesitantly. "The museum you were at last night... it was- well, it was robbed."
Robbed? Why would they- oh, they think I did it. That was how it always went, after all. An ex-con was in a building where a crime was committed, obviously he was the culprit.
"I see," Neal said noncommittally.
"We need you to come in," Jones said apologetically. Neal nodded to himself.
"Alright," he said, feeling concerned and slightly more awake. Hopefully he could talk his way out of this. "I'll be there soon."
"Sorry about this," Jones said, "see you in a few." The man hung up and Neal set down his phone with a sigh, standing and heading for a quick shower. Not exactly how I wanted to start my Sunday morning.
