CH 89 Clairvoyance
Bonnie didn't know what to expect the next day at work, whether Bear would behave as if the movie outing hadn't happened, or if he'd call her into his office and read her the riot act behind closed doors.
In the event, although she did receive a summons, it was not from Bear, at least not initially, but from Dr. Cummings. He greeted her knock at his door with his usual beaming smile, and motioned her to a seat. Several minutes of the standard polite inquiries later, he came to the point. "I asked to see you, Bonnie, because I wanted to follow up on what I said in Paris as regards your being chosen — or not — to be the next Louvre Fellow. I was — and am — absolutely sincere about wanting to keep you on staff here at the Jeff, but my thinking at the time was not to make you an offer until, and unless, you weren't selected. It's occurred to me in the meantime, though, why wait? What's to stop us from giving the Louvre a run for its money? Their award carries a lot of prestige, granted, but a position at the Jeff is nothing to sneeze at, either.
"So, here's the situation: one of the senior conservators is retiring at the end of the year. It hasn't been formally announced, and, at his request, won't be until mid-November, so, I won't name names, though you can probably guess who it is. Needless to say, I'm telling you all this in strictest confidence."
"I understand," Bonnie assured him. On impulse, she asked, "Does Dr. Baer know?"
"About the retirement? Yes. As to my letting you in on it, no, and I'd rather we keep it that way for now. Baer's a by-the-books kind of guy, and he'd take a dim view of my giving you advance notice. Trouble is, I can't wait three weeks to offer you a job, not when the Louvre's going to be announcing their decision any day now."
"I see, yes. I won't breathe a word."
"Good! Now, to be clear, we'll be obliged to advertise the position and take applications, but, for all intents and purposes, if you decide you want the job, it's yours. It'll be an assistant-level post," he qualified, "bottom rung on the ladder, but that hasn't worked out too badly for you so far."
Bonnie smiled at the teasing glint in his eye. "No," she agreed. "I've been given chances here I probably wouldn't have gotten at any other institute. I'll always be grateful to you and Dr. Baer for that."
"Well, you can thank us by staying put." He rose from his chair, and, as was his wont when ending an interview, buttoned himself into his jacket. "At least, give it some thought. The Jeff may not have the Louvre's cachet, but we're still a top-notch outfit."
Bonnie stood as well, thanked him, promised to carefully weigh her options, and floated on air back down to the workroom. She didn't need time to think; she'd been tempted to say as much to Dr. Cummings, but he hadn't given her the chance, and, ultimately, she didn't suppose it mattered. She could wait until after the Louvre Fellowship was awarded to accept his offer. Because accept it she would, even in the unlikely event that the fellowship went to her; she'd been leaning toward declining, anyway. Dr. Cummings' offer simply tipped the scales for good. She was so delighted to have the question of her next career move settled — and so much to her liking — that she practically danced into the workroom. Gabby, seeing her high spirits, smiled and raised an eyebrow, but, fortunately for Bonnie's vow of silence, her colleague made do, for once, with a smile in answer and didn't pursue the matter further.
Later that day, Bear stopped to review her proposal for treating the Blau painting, and, as he confined himself to purely technical concerns, she concluded he'd decided against mentioning her movie date with Danny. She was, consequently, surprised the next day when he asked to have a private word. He made the request out of her workmates' hearing, a discretion she was grateful for as she made her way to his office shortly after quitting time.
He invited her to take a seat, and, his face as usual giving nothing away, he passed her a tube of off-white construction paper secured with an elastic band. She loosed it, and it uncurled to show the drawing of a T-rex identical to the one that figured on the T-shirts she'd brought from Paris but for certain modifications: in lieu of a beret, the creature wore a ball cap on his head, and tucked under one arm was not a baguette but a large tub of popcorn. In the talons of his other hand, he held aloft an ice cream cone, and a speech bubble opposite his gaping jaws read, "Thank you, Bonnie!" in slightly uneven block letters. It was so clever and executed so beautifully that Bonnie laughed for pure pleasure. She flashed a smile at Bear who was watching her intently. "Thank you for delivering this. It's wonderful."
She admired the drawing another few seconds, and was beginning to roll it up again when Bear said, "You shouldn't have, you know."
She pretended not to understand. "Shouldn't have…?"
"Bought him the T-shirt."
"Oh, that! How could I resist? It had his name written all over it!"
He couldn't argue that, and grumbled instead, "He's barely taken it off since he got it. If he'd had his way this morning, he'd've worn it to school again."
Bonnie suppressed a smile. "I'm very glad he likes it."
"To put it mildly." He tipped his chin in the direction of the drawing in her hands. "And another thing he's very high on was your Sunday afternoon together. To hear him tell it, it was the best time he's ever had in his life."
There was such a sour note in his voice, she felt, absurdly, as if she should apologize. "It was meant to be a special day, my belated birthday gift to Luc."
"Well, apparently you outdid yourself, because Danny can't stop talking about all the fun he had." A grimace crossed his face, and, shooting her a regretful look, he sank back in his chair. "Sorry. I know you mean well, but… have you considered that Danny's getting very attached to you?"
The question hurt, but she answered lightly, "Would that be so very bad?"
"It could be. If you wind up leaving the area, say. You're a young woman at the start of your career. With good, permanent positions thin on the ground, who knows where you'll be working come January? You could be taking up the Louvre Fellowship…"
"That isn't going to happen." She said it quickly, breathless suddenly with the glimmer of a crack in the mystery of Bear's withdrawal. Could it really be so simple as his irrational fear of abandonment coming to the fore? He seemed to be persuaded that her leaving was inevitable. Or, was he only plagued with doubts and airing the eventuality as a roundabout way of sounding her out? If that was the case and he needed reassurance, she could give it, and lay his fear to rest.
"I know Perrin wasn't very encouraging," Bear was saying, "but he could have misread the situation, and…"
"No," Bonnie broke in, "you don't understand: I won't be accepting the fellowship even if, against all odds, I'm offered it."
This had the effect of rendering Bear momentarily speechless. Then, "You're going to decline the most sought-after appointment in the business?"
"If it comes to it," she said, adding hastily, "Which it won't."
"And why, exactly, would you do such a thing? Opportunities like that don't grow on trees."
"I know." She'd've given a lot in that moment to take the easy out of sharing Dr. Cummings' offer with him, but, as that option was denied her, she had to go the harder route of revealing the truth. "It's just that… it's not a good time for me to commit to a year abroad right now. There are… personal considerations keeping me here."
"I see." She fervently hoped it was true, that he could read between the lines to what she couldn't say plainly, if only for propriety's sake. He considered her thoughtfully, then asked in a carefully neutral tone, "Family concerns?"
Was he being tactful, or did he still need more? She couldn't tell. "I'm worried about my grandfather, of course. You met him. You saw how frail he is. But there're other people I care about, too: friends and… others."
Her cheeks flushed at this quasi-declaration, and Bonnie saw to her added embarrassment that it hadn't escaped Bear's notice. He cleared his throat, and said, "So, you're hanging your hopes on Cummings' promise to keep you on staff here? He may not be able to deliver, you know."
"I'm aware of that. I spoke to him about it yesterday. He did seem optimistic, though."
"He'll make it happen, if he can. If he can't…" He paused to give her a straight look. "I don't know of any job openings in the area. You might have to widen your search."
"That's always a possibility, but I don't expect it'll come to that. I'm bound to find something, and, if not, I can try working freelance for a while."
He digested this, his eyes locked on hers. "You're determined, then, to stay in D. C.? Or close by?"
She nodded, keeping her gaze and focus steady. "Absolutely."
Bear searched her face an instant longer, then, nodded in his turn, apparently satisfied but not, Bonnie was sorry to see, noticeably happier or more relaxed. It would take more than words, then, to ease his mind completely. He straightened back up, his manner skewing brisk and decisive. "In that case, I guess I don't object to your seeing Danny off and on. As long as you clear it with me first, that is. I can't have arrangements like last Sunday's sprung on me at the last minute."
"No, of course not, and I apologize for the misunderstanding. I made the mistake of assuming Caro mentioned our plans back in September at Luc's party, but that's no excuse for my not following up with you, myself. It was an oversight, and won't happen again."
He accepted apology and promise with a nod, and made to push back from his desk, only to stop suddenly. "One more thing: no more presents."
This struck Bonnie as rather hard, but she only inquired, "Not even for Christmas?"
He rose to his feet, obliging her to do the same. The question hung between them, Bear wavering over his answer until, finally, some of the starch going out of him, he unbent a little. "We'll see."
It was a small concession, reluctantly made, and yet Bonnie felt enormously encouraged. He might've held firm, but he'd yielded, and that felt like a victory, a narrow strip of lost ground regained. And, best of all, she now knew how to build on it. She'd already laid a strong foundation by insisting on her intention to stay in town, and now she had only to persevere along the course she'd set. In a month, maybe less, when she'd accepted the position Dr. Cummings could officially offer, Bear would have his solid proof of her commitment, and his unreasoning mistrust of her would fade away. It had been a long, nightmarish journey getting to this point, but she could clearly see the end in sight, and that bucked her up to be patient a while longer.
Over the next few weeks, she had no lack of distractions to help her bear the wait. The repairs to the Blau portrait, which involved darning the tears in the canvas using surgical needles and linen thread, required such intense concentration and singular focus that she barely looked up from her microscope more than once or twice an hour. She was not especially adept at sewing, and so, to compensate, proceeded with extreme care, losing herself in the task as she worked.
In the evenings, she split her time between pitching in on the last big push for Freya's senate campaign and helping her mother with the final arrangements for the B & B Foundation Children's Halloween party, an annual event offered as a public service to those parents in the community who, like Christine herself, preferred a structured, supervised celebration to letting their kids go roving cold, dark streets, trick-or-treating house-to-house. Bonnie extended an invitation to Bear and Danny, and to the Jolicœurs as well, but they declined, having already made plans to observe the holiday in the more traditional fashion.
As one of the county's elected officials, Trenton, with Freya by his side, had always made a point of dropping by the Halloween party to show his support and to mingle casually with his constituents. Bonnie, presiding over the mini-pumpkin painting table in her fortune-teller costume, hadn't known whether to expect Freya this year — when asked, even Trev hadn't been able to say — and so it was with pleasure and a swell of admiration that Bonnie looked up to see that Freya had arrived and was working the room much as her husband would have done, trailed at a small distance by Trev and Vanna. She cut an elegant figure in her severe black dress, paired for the occasion with a simple witch's hat, "pressing the flesh," stopping to chat with the adults, crouching down to the children's level to admire their costumes and craft projects. All the while, the media covering the event snapped photos and took videos for publishing on their websites or airing on the local news, excellent press for campaign and foundation alike.
On her circuit round the hall, Freya found time to sit a few minutes among Bonnie's amateur artists, and heap praise on their painted jack o'lanterns. Then, before moving on, she took Bonnie aside, and, smiling fondly, assured herself, "You'll be coming to the watch party on election night, won't you? At the Sheraton?"
"Of course! I'll be there with bells on, cheering your victory with the best of them."
Freya's tired eyes lit with amusement, and, with a glance down at Bonnie's get-up, she asked, "Is that what you see in my future, Madame Gypsy?"
Bonnie smiled and shook her head. "I don't need a crystal ball to know you're going to win by a landslide."
And, three days later, Freya did.