After talking to Mr. Gibson - another member of the board - Eleanor found out that the board had no intention of accepting Milo's proposal. They told him that Atlantis didn't exist and that he was just wasting his time, just like Thaddeus Thatch. That must have struck a nerve with Milo. After all, he idolized his grandfather for following his dreams all his life.
Eleanor looked at the locket around her neck that her own grandfather had given her for her 16th birthday. In it was a picture of the two of them, smiling. She knew that carrying on her grandfather's dream was important, just as it was for Milo and Thaddeus.
Milo can't give up just yet, she thought as she raced home.
"I'm home. Fluffy?"
Milo set his bags down and called for his cat. Fluff was a coward when it came to thunder, so he was prepared for a hunt to find her. What he didn't expect to find was a well-dressed woman sitting in his chair.
"Milo James Thatch?" she asked in a smooth, low voice.
Milo gulped. The woman obviously knew him, although he had never seen her before in his life.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?"
She rolled her eyes and rose to look out the window.
"I came down the chimney. Ho ho ho."
He didn't laugh. Although she was the stranger in his house, the woman seemed oddly comfortable. She didn't threaten him or appear to have stolen anything, so Milo felt that he didn't need to call for help…yet.
"My name is Helga Sinclair. I'm acting on behalf of my employer who has a most intriguing proposition for you. Are you interested?"
Interested? Milo thought. I'm fascinated! What kind of employer sends a strange woman into their potential worker's house to tell them about the job?
"Your…your, your employer? Who is your employer?"
"The tea is ready, Miss Cooper!" called Anna. "Shall I bring it to you?"
Eleanor set her brush down and swept her hair up into a bun as she called back to the maid.
"There's no need, Anna. I'll come and get it."
"Very good, ma'am."
After a once over in the mirror, Eleanor deemed herself ready to go downstairs. Although she was not a vain girl, she wanted to look her best whenever company was around. It was one of the few habits her mother had passed down to her. That, of course, was before American boarding school and illness took over the family…
"You look just like your mother, Ellie."
Eleanor's grandfather leaned in the doorway. She turned and smiled at him. He grinned back at her, and then looked at the clock on her mantle.
"Oops! My client will be here any time now," he said with a wink.
Eleanor loved her grandfather dearly. It was hard to believe that she didn't know him at all when she came to America, considering that they were now in such close confidence. He, admittedly, was quirky, but she blamed that on a combination of his wealth and loneliness.
No matter, she thought, dismissing any dwellings on the eccentricity of her grandfather. He's a good businessman and that's all that matters.
Anna, the family maid suddenly appeared in the doorway. She bowed hastily.
"Good heavens, Anna! What's wrong?"
"Oh, it's only that…well…"
The girl looked at her feet and struggled to find words. Eleanor, as always, was patient.
"The gentleman has arrived."
Ms. Sinclair led Milo to an extravagant mansion. By this time, the sun was completely set and the rain had not stopped in hours. It was all becoming a bit ominous.
"How did you say your employer found me?" he asked timidly.
"I didn't."
Ms. Sinclair then held the door open for Milo, ushering him quickly into the foyer.
"This way, please. And don't drip on the Caravaggio."
Milo couldn't believe his eyes. He knew that he'd never again see a house as grand as this one. A suit of armor to his left caught his eye. He wandered over to it, looking for a description plate.
"Step lively," Ms. Sinclair snapped. "Mr. Whitmore does not like to be kept waiting."
She pushed aside a velvet curtain to reveal an elevator cage.
Of course there is an elevator in this house, Milo laughed to himself.
As the door of the elevator closed, Ms. Sinclair turned to face him.
"You will address him as 'Mr. Whitmore' or 'Sir.' You will stand unless asked to be seated. Keep your sentences short and to the point. Are we clear?"
Milo was speechless.
"And relax. He doesn't bite…often."