Chapter 3: Rudesby

Although Grandpa B announced that he wanted "to be alone" with his mac 'n' cheese, it was only Bonnie who beat a quick retreat. She blessed Junior for his thoughtfulness in whetting their grandfather's flagging appetite, but it was his timely arrival for which she was primarily grateful; had the interrogation lasted much longer, she likely would have spilled all the embarrassing beans regarding a certain Dr. Rudolph Baer, painting conservator at the Jeffersonian Museum and her immediate supervisor for the next nine months.

She knew she could not let "Rudesby" (his well-earned nickname among the fellows and interns) have any part in her decision about Trev. She had not been exaggerating about his disapproval of her, and, by his own admission, he had determined to dislike her even before they met. The very first day, three months before, when he had invited her into his office to "welcome" her to the team, he had not scrupled to tell her that, had he been consulted, he would have strenuously opposed her being granted the year-long fellowship.

"Clearly," he said, regarding her fixedly from under beetling black brows, "as a scion of no fewer than two world-renown and wealthy families, you have no need to earn your daily bread, and your accepting the job here deprives a more deserving candidate of the training, practical experience and networking possibilities critical to gaining a foothold in this profession. I can think of a dozen young men and women with a more compelling claim to this opportunity than you, but, needless to say, none of them has the clout of a financial empire behind them, or a personal tie to individuals who are revered in these halls as having made the Jeffersonian one of the premier institutions in the country, and for whom entire collections have been named.

"Please be aware, Miss Booth-Hodgins, that while you are working under my supervision, you will not receive any of the special considerations to which you no doubt feel entitled. On the contrary: I will be watching you very closely, and I will not hesitate to lobby for your dismissal if I feel that your work is not up to my exacting standards. If you cannot make substantial contributions to our on-going projects, no connections, however influential, will save you. I trust I have made my position plain. You may go now. Miss Franklin will see to the remainder of your orientation."

In all her twenty-five years, Bonnie had never been spoken to in so contemptuous a manner. She had been speechless with the shock of it, unable to do more than sit dumfounded through his offensive remarks, and remove herself, zombie-like, when he was done. She must have been glassy-eyed and white as a sheet upon returning to the workroom, because the waiting Miss Franklin tut-tutted at the sight of her, took her by the arm, and leading her to a seat, prepared her a cup of strong black tea from her personal stash. "Don't take it to heart, honey," the somewhat older woman advised, patting her reassuringly on the arm. "He's an absolute beast, but you'll learn more from him in a year than you would in ten under somebody else." Gabby, as Miss Franklin insisted on being called, sighed dramatically. "What a terrible waste of male pulchritude…"

If Rudesby had thought to cow her into voluntarily surrendering her fellowship, he had made a serious tactical error. She was a Booth-Hodgins, with all that implied of pluck, perseverance and justifiable self-esteem, and she would not be misprized. His flagrant prejudice steeled her resolve not only to meet his expectations, however unreasonable, but to exceed them. He will eat crow, Bonnie promised herself grimly, and, if in her first few weeks he never complimented her work, neither did he find anything to criticize in it. He continued surly and unpleasant, but that was his demeanor toward everyone, and so not intolerable.

What Dr. Baer lacked in personal graces, he more than made up for in talent and dedication to his craft. His love for the paintings entrusted to him was beyond dispute, and if he insisted on no pains being spared to return them to their former glory, or to rescue them from further degradation, he demanded no less of himself. There was no flake, no chip, no paint loss too minute to escape his notice; he was tireless in his attention to the smallest detail, driven to lavishing without stint all the delicate care each precious canvas demanded of him. The long-dead artists of the masterpieces that passed through his hands could not have asked for a more devoted or more passionate steward of their work.

It was, perhaps, his outsized passion for art, a passion Bonnie shared, that balanced out his egregiously boorish behavior in her eyes. He was a man of great energy, extensive knowledge and little to no patience. He did not mince words, he did not compromise, and he made no apologies. Bonnie admired the strength of his character and his obvious integrity, although she could not like the rude manner in which these were expressed. He was rather like a force of nature, she sometimes thought: furious and unpredictable, majestic and terrifying, awe-inspiring and awful. Intriguing, indeed; that was the least of it…

If she was completely honest with herself — something she tried to avoid at all costs in thinking of Dr. Baer — she would have to admit she was very powerfully attracted to him. It was an extremely unwelcome attraction, however, and, given his patently condescending attitude toward her, one without a future into the bargain. Entirely unsuitable, just as she had said to her grandfather, and as such, it could have no bearing whatsoever on her decision to accept or refuse Trevor Wyndham-Pryce, none at all.