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ELIZABETH
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ONCE, MY FATHER HAD come across some old maps. One of them had shown Antarctica before the ice cap covered it and the other Central and South America long before they were officially discovered and mapped.
“How is that possible?” I’d asked him.
“Our logical mind immediately suggests they are falsifications,” he’d said. “By the most daring estimate, the last time Antarctica was free of ice was not less than six thousand years ago. But these maps are not false. I had a chance to prove it myself.” He tapped a map spread open on his desk. “Take this one, for example. This is a copy of the so-called Piri Reis Map, made in 1513 in Istanbul. Piri Reis was an Ottoman admiral and cartographer. The map is based on some unknown older sources. Look at it. It shows accurate longitudes and latitudes. And why’s that interesting, Betty?”
“Latitudes would not be discovered for a long time. Before John Harrison made his Chronometer 4 and used it for the first time in 1761, cartographers and navigators weren’t able to calculate longitudes with any precision.”
“Exactly.”
“But this is not possible.”
“Because it’s not logical; not according to what we know about geography, geology and the discovery of measuring instruments. Yet the Piri Reis map is, beyond any doubt, from 1513. So? What is the answer, then, love?”
“Maybe our knowledge is insufficient. Our conclusions are based on what we think it is, not on what it is.”
“Right. Just because we don’t understand something, it doesn’t mean it isn’t so. That’s why we sometimes must challenge the official knowledge, even logic, or what looks logical. Everything except the fundamental laws of physics. In other words, Elizabeth, try to think outside the box and tell me one possible answer.”
“If the map is authentic, it can only mean that somebody in the past possessed advanced geological knowledge to figure out what Antarctica looked like without the ice cap. They must have known how to calculate latitudes before the official discovery of the chronometer. Somebody must have visited South America before the fifteenth century, and Antarctica before 1820, when it was ‘discovered.’ Their knowledge must have been lost or forgotten.”
“Or maybe somebody else found it by accident. Well done, my love, well done!”
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I WOKE UP THE NEXT morning with this particular conversation in my mind. I’d been thirteen then and fascinated with unexplained mysteries. Now I had a distinct feeling that I might be at the center of one of them.
“Elizabeth, think outside the box,” I quietly repeated my father’s words. Just because Khalid looks too young to have a grownup son ... Just because Ahmed Demir didn’t look at all as Sam had described him, and his wife, who was supposed to be in her forties, didn’t seem older than I ... Just because Harriet appeared to be ten years younger yesterday than the night before ... Just because I couldn’t find satisfactory explanations, it didn’t mean there were no explanations. They, in fact, could be quite simple, and reasonable.
Think outside the box.
I sighed, once again concerned by my notable absence of concern that all these open questions should cause.
I stretched in my bed feeling rested and energized. And it was only seven a.m. I’d never been a morning person before. I had low blood pressure; I was usually tired in the morning and not very sociable. By some miracle, since I came here, my morning grogginess had disappeared.
I got out of bed and pulled the curtains. Sun poured into the room. The sky was cloudless and brilliant blue. I opened the window and let the crisp morning air in.
I spent the next half hour in my lovely pink and white bathroom brushing my teeth, taking a shower and straightening my hair.
After another silent debate about what to wear—I was aware I had overdressed yesterday, especially for dinner—I decided to follow my style nonetheless. I liked wearing shirts, blouses, dresses and fancy shoes. Copper Ridge wasn’t Boston, Montreal or classy Rosenthal, but it didn’t mean I had to jump into jeans, sweatshirts and cowboy boots.
I put on a beige silk blouse, a caramel brown pencil skirt and brown suede pumps. A matching soft wide belt and my favourite mother of pearl hairband—and I was ready for the first day on my new project.
While I was tidying up my room, I made a mental schedule: I’d work eight to four every day, Monday to Friday. If my boss didn’t distract me too much, I’d need a couple of weeks to complete the job. When the public competition was formally over and the Baker Block was legally Khalid’s, I’d go back to Rosenthal and start working on the renovations.
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ONCE MORE I WAS SURPRISED by the complete lack of normal house sounds in my room. Not until I opened the door and stepped out could I tell if anyone else was awake.
As I walked to the kitchen, I caught part of a conversation between Lily and Harriet. Lily sounded frustrated. “He says, and I quote, ‘We should maybe move in together.’ Well, how about maybe not? And move in where? To my room or to his?”
“Not very eloquent, I agree, but you know what he meant,” Harriet said.
“I know, but he’s a lawyer; he’s supposed to be eloquent. I’m not moving in with him anyway. And then he said he wanted to take me to Winston to meet his family. As if we are going to marry or something. And we’ve only kissed so far.”
“You’ll see his family soon anyway. They’re coming to Red Cliffs for Rosie’s birthday ... Hey, good morning, Elizabeth.”
“Good morning Harriet, Lily! So, is the storm over or is it only taking a break?”
“It’s over, for now,” Lily said. “There’ll be another one or two short-lived ones before winter quits.”
“Let’s the three of us have breakfast,” Harriet said. “The men can eat as they show up.”
Before I could inquire as to the whereabouts of the men, Lily said, “Khalid and Azem went to town this morning. They’ll be back at any moment. Where’s Jason, Harriet?”
Harriet motioned in the general direction of the garage. “Ah, playing with the Aston Martin. Elizabeth will drive it while she’s here, weather permitting.”
“When are you two going to Ireland?” Lily asked.
I’d overheard about Jason and Harriet’s upcoming trip overseas to see Jason’s family.
“In April,” Harriet said.
“Does Jason have a big family?” I asked Harriet.
“Just immediate family: mother, stepfather and two sisters, Regan and Ennis.”
“Are they married?”
Harriet smiled. “Regan is, Ennis isn’t. Ennis is young ... youngest, I mean. She still has plenty of time.” Harriet stopped and turned to Lily, her eyes wide.
“To marry,” Lily finished.
“That’s right. It’s never too late, is it?” Harriet said.
“How old is she?” I asked.
Harriet and Lily exchanged a look. “A couple of years younger than Jason,” Harriet said.
So, in her forties. Well, forties were the new twenties, but it was a peculiar choice of words and I was sure Harriet had had something entirely different on her mind when she’d said it was never too late.
And then I heard the sound of Khalid’s footsteps, distinctive because of his slightly halting gait and Jason’s sisters disappeared from my mind. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I grabbed my cup and took a sip of tea, noticing my hand was shaking.
“Elizabeth, you’re already awake,” Khalid said with a broad smile as he came in. He wore a dark blue sweater and light slacks, and looked like he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine.
“Good morning,” I smiled back, managing somehow to sound normal, despite my excitement. “I’m impatient to start working.”
Khalid took a teacup from the cupboard, pulled up a chair beside me and sat, keeping his injured leg stretched out. He reached for the pot and poured tea into his cup.
His hair was still wet from the shower and he smelled of some expensive soap. I briefly wondered how come I hadn’t heard him returning from Copper Ridge. I rewound the sound of his footsteps in my head. They had come from the direction of his room, not from outside. He must have arrived earlier, showered and then joined us in the kitchen.
“Aren’t you going to have breakfast, Khalid?” Harriet said.
“No, thank you,” he said, his alluring blue-green gaze on me. “Azem and I breakfasted in Copper Ridge.”
“Next time take Jason with you. He hasn’t done that in ages.”
Khalid smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I sure will.”
Done what? Gone to Copper Ridge? Had breakfast there?
I moved my gaze between Khalid and Harriet, trying to make sense of yet another weird conversation. This time a deliberate one, not a slip of the tongue like when they mentioned the single status of Jason’s sister.
Were my hosts trying to help me, giving me small samples to chew on so that I didn’t choke when I got to the full meal?
What was on the main menu, then?
“Jason’s in the garage,” Harriet said. “Got carried away, as usual. I’m going to bring him breakfast.” She placed some food on a plate, fetched a cup and filled it with coffee. “See you later, Elizabeth.”
“Lily, Azem needs you in the office,” Khalid said. “He asked if you could bring him coffee.”
“I’m not his secretary,” Lily said but stood and reached for a cup.
Once we were alone Khalid took my hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. The warm tide rushed over me. God, what a beautiful sensation, I thought, as excited and aroused, both emotionally and physically, as the first time I’d felt it.
“So, what’s our plan for today?” he asked. “Before six-thirty. Astrid and Jack are expecting us around seven.”
Oh. “I’ll work till four, then. I’m thinking about working every day from eight or—” I glanced at my wristwatch; it was already eight twenty, “eight thirty to four or four thirty. If it’s okay with you.”
“It’s not okay with me. I don’t want you to work full-time hours. I’m paying you per job, not per hour. I don’t want you to finish the project too early.”
And I wondered where my bossy Khalid had gone.
“You and I can sit every evening for a couple of hours to work on the Baker Block project,” I said.
“Appraisals, the Baker Block. You’ll have a very busy schedule.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t think so. We have to loosen it up. I’ll help you. I don’t want you to move those heavy pieces of furniture yourself.”
“And I don’t want you to get hurt moving furniture. Your leg’s injured. I might be small, but I’m stronger than I look. If something is too heavy, Jason or Azem can help me.”
He pulled his chair close and leaned toward me. Our heads were almost touching now. “You’re not small. You’re perfect.”
“I think we should start working,” I said when I remembered to breathe again, and I stood up. Too quickly I suppose since my legs gave out and I lost my balance. I felt Khalid’s arms around me followed by the pressure of his erection against my abdomen.
He took a small step back, but his arms didn’t release me.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes smiling. He didn’t look uncomfortable at all with the obvious proof of his arousal.
My sexual response, a gush of warm wetness between my thighs, wasn’t visible to the naked eye, but my burning face gave me away. “I’m f-fine. I mustn’t stand too quickly. It makes me dizzy.”
“Ah, yes, your low blood pressure. Mine, on the other hand, just skyrocketed,” Khalid said with a crooked smile. His eyes skimmed over me, head to toe. “You sure you can work?”
“Of course I can.”
“Why don’t you change into more comfortable clothes and put on a pair of sneakers? We’re going to shift and move some heavy stuff.”
I pulled myself out of his embrace and I gave him a sweet smile. “This is my usual outfit for moving furniture. And you’re not moving anything.”
“Only large pieces,” he said, laughing. “I’ll be fine, Elizabeth. I know my limits.”
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KHALID MOVED THE HEAVY furniture as if it was made of Styrofoam. Two thoughts flashed through my mind as I watched him work. First, that his physical strength was enormous; second that the origin of his pain might not be physical, but rather, psychological. Two more puzzles. Something to think about later.
After a few hours, I had what I wanted: every item sorted according to style and use, with the sets on one side of the room, and all the individual pieces on the other.
“What do you have upstairs?” I asked Khalid when we took a break, drinking coffee Harriet had just brought us. I pulled up and sat on one of the Louis XV style salon chairs with an elaborate gilded frame and Prussian blue satin upholstery. Khalid was leaning on a massive Baroque walnut chest of drawers.
“More furniture. Paintings. Decorative objects. Clocks, some books, things like that.”
“As I said, I’m certified only for furniture and decorative objects. I have a friend, an art dealer from Boston. He’s an art collector and restaurateur, William Morgan. He can help us.”
He nodded but his thoughts were far away. For a while he didn’t say anything, he just kept looking at me. “You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever known, Elizabeth,” he said softly and smiled at me.
I didn’t know what had inspired this statement, but my heart almost burst with happiness.
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MORE THAN HIS OUTSTANDING physical strength, I was in awe of the depth of Khalid’s knowledge. As soon as I started doing the appraisals, checking piece by piece, I became aware that he indeed didn’t need my expertise, only my seal.
I would, for example, know that a piece originated in the 1740s Germany, name the possible manufacturers, and mark it for further research to narrow it down to a single workshop. I was an expert; I knew a great deal about antique furniture. Khalid wasn’t, but his knowledge ran wider and deeper, down to fascinating details that no textbook or guide mentioned.
Among Khalid’s antiquities, there was an elegant twelve-piece Biedermeier walnut salon set that caught my eye the night I arrived. Surrounded by the grand and impressive Baroque pieces with their exaggerated and dramatic look, and playful, asymmetrical, frivolous Rococo furnishings, they stood out with their elegant lines and minimal ornamentation.
“This is Bloomfield’s,” I said after a quick visual check. “Made between 1737 and 1739, when they switched from mahogany to walnut timber. Their walnut furniture has distinctive dovetail joints.”
“Do you know there wasn’t a single Bloomfield’s item made of mahogany between 1737 and 1739?” Khalid asked, smiling, his turquoise eyes gleaming.
“Yes, but no one knows why.”
“I know. Albrecht Bloomfield invested a lot of money in a shipment of mahogany from Jamaica. The day it arrived in Hamburg someone stole it. Master Albrecht was sure his wife’s father, Otto, was behind it. Albrecht was his biggest business rival. To add insult to injury, the previous year his daughter, Petra, had broken her engagement and ran off with Albrecht. Petra’s father wanted his son-in-law out of business.”
“So what happened?” I asked, mesmerized by the story. Or by his eyes. Or both.
“Without Albrecht’s knowledge, his clever wife, Petra—she was only sixteen then, Albrecht was over thirty—pawned her jewelry and paid some people to break into her father’s shop and steal the timber.” He stopped and smiled, shaking his head, somewhere in his thoughts. Then his eyes found mine again.
I wondered where he had been for that short moment.
“Anyway,” he continued, “they didn’t find the mahogany there, but they took with them the equal value of her father’s walnut timber. That was how Bloomfield started making walnut furniture. Later, when Albrecht and his father-in-law settled their disputes, he continued using mahogany, but walnut furniture became their main product. Walnut timber was domestic, cheaper and easily accessible. It made both Albrecht and his father-in-law wealthy. When Otto died, Albrecht became his heir.”
“Where did you find this story about Bloomfield’s stolen timber?” I asked, amused.
He lightly brushed the back of his fingers over my cheek. “In some old newspapers.”
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“DO YOU WANT TO TRY the Aston today or would you prefer to drive another car?” Khalid asked later that afternoon as we walked toward our rooms to get ready for dinner at Astrid and Jack’s.
“Can you fit in the Aston?” I asked eyeing his powerful, tall body. “Will it be enough legroom for you? How far is it between here and Red Cliffs?”
“Depends on the traffic and roads.” A pause. “And the conditions.”
“And what do we know about the current road conditions?”
“The road was cleaned earlier. March snow often melts fast. As for the distance, it’s about half an hour to forty minutes, depending ...” Another pause. “On how fast you drive.”
Did I imagine those little hiatuses? Oh, well. “As fast as I can,” I said, “and it will still be too slow. Aston Martins aren’t made for cruising.”
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I TOOK A SHOWER, FIXED my hair, which had started curling again, and applied very little makeup. I put on a ruby red dress with a black velvet trim around the neckline and cuffs. It followed the outline of my torso, but the knee-length skirt widened from the waist down, turning it into an elegant rather than a daring outfit, in spite of its bold colors and tightly fitted top. As for jewelry, I’d decided on my mother’s gold and ruby necklace and matching earrings.
I slipped into a pair of black patent leather pumps with red metal buckles shaped like abstract hummingbirds.
From the top drawer of the dresser, I took out a present for Rosie: a rectangular wooden box that held a modern replica of an old-fashioned toy kaleidoscope inside. The kaleidoscope was silver plated and beautifully carved. Inside it revealed an ever-changing pattern in glimmering colors. I had found it during a trip to Seattle months ago, in a small custom-design jewelry store that also made heritage toys. There were only two kaleidoscopes in the store, and I’d purchased both. One was slightly bigger, and the pattern was different. I’d give it to Jacob, for his birthday. The other one, smaller, more delicate, I brought here, on an impulse, as if I knew I’d need it.
I wrapped the box in a piece of silver paper Harriet had found for me earlier that day and placed it in my purse.
I grabbed my coat from the armoire and went downstairs.
Dressed in a grey suit, pale purple shirt, and blue-silver tie, Khalid was waiting for me in the living room.
“Do you always wear a suit when you visit Jack and Astrid?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off of him.
He took the coat from my hands. I turned to let him help me put it on. “Not always, only for special occasions.” His hands rested on my shoulders and his head moved closer to mine. Warmth rushed through my body. “You look beautiful,” he whispered in my ear.
He took a deep, slow breath, and then his lips brushed over my neck. His hands slid from my shoulders down my arms before he closed them around my waist. Gently, he pressed his body against mine. Through the layers of our clothes, I could feel his arousal.
My breath thickened, my heart sped up, my body ached from longing.
“You smell so good.” Khalid’s hands moved upward, toward my breasts. “I can hear your heart. Do you want me as much as I want you?”
Entranced by his scent, his warm breath and the physical proof of his desire that was now pressing against my back, I was robbed of speech.
I let out a small moan and rested my head against his chest. I could hear our heartbeats, almost indistinguishable.
Time stopped. How long did we stand there? A minute, five, fifteen? My head was empty of thoughts; I existed only in my emotional and physical self.
Khalid’s hands moved back to my waist. His embrace tightened, the pressure from behind became even harder and his breathing ragged.
Then a voice broke the spell. “The car’s ready! It’s parked in front of the house!”
I wiggled out from Khalid’s arms and took a deep breath.
“Thanks, Jason!” Khalid said over my shoulder. He took a step back. “Do you want me to call Astrid and Jack and cancel?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “No. I ... Uh!”
He took my hand, brought it to his lips and kissed my palm. “You need more time? I understand.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need more time, but they’re waiting for us.”
“Let’s go then,” Khalid said and closed his fingers around my upper arm. “Luna’s outside with Jason. She’ll run to you. Don’t let her jump on you.”
“Why would she run to me?”
Khalid smiled. “She seems to have picked you as her boss. In her world, you’re her alpha leader.”
“Then what is your place in her hierarchy?” I asked, amused.
“I’m not sure.” He laughed. “As your deputy, perhaps. The second best, when you’re not around.”
Khalid was right. Before we made it to the car, Luna was speeding toward us—a brown-grey ball of excited yips.
“Tell her to stop, Elizabeth,” Khalid said. “She’s going to ruin your coat.”
I wasn’t sure if it was going to work, but before Luna reached me, I said in a calm voice, “No, Luna. Don’t jump. Come to me, girl, just don’t jump.”
To my astonishment, she understood my command and stopped right in front of me. She lifted her eyes and gave me a look of such utter adoration that my heart melted.
“She really likes me,” I said, giddy with this unexpected display of love. I crouched and stroked her fur. “Good girl. Now I have to go. Go back to Jason and have fun.”
The last command was too abstract for her and she didn’t move. Jason came out of the stables and called her. She looked at me as if she wanted my permission to go to him.
“Go, Luna. I’ll be back later, okay?”
She squeaked and dashed toward Jason.
Khalid opened the driver’s door of the silver Aston Martin for me. “Well done, Elizabeth. You seem to be a natural with Canis lupus lupus.”
“Common wolf?” I smiled and took the driver’s seat. “Our Luna is more of a Canis lupus familiaris. A domestic dog.”
Khalid leaned toward me. “She’s half wolf, remember? But then, wolves can be cute and gentle, if we bother to get to know them, don’t you think?”
Having not much knowledge about the soft side of a wolf’s nature, I didn’t know what to think. “They’re magnificent. But cute and gentle? Now you’re talking like Lottie Fontaine.”
Khalid picked up a lock of my hair and tucked it behind my ear. “And how does she talk?”
“In riddles. Never mind. Wolves were wiped out from Colorado by the mid-1930s, right? I read that the reintegration started not longer than a year or two ago.”
“Not all had disappeared. Some remained,” he said and walked around the car. With some difficulty, he lowered himself into the passenger seat.
I wanted to say that, as far as I knew, not a single one had survived, although some may have made it back before the reintegration, as wolf populations had been restored in neighboring states. But then I reminded myself that my knowledge was coming from books and TV documentaries, and Khalid’s might be from experience.
As I turned the key, however, I forgot all about Colorado’s wolves, Luna and her ancestry, and my new role as the “leader” of her small human pack. More excited than when I had sat in my very own first car, I put the Aston into first gear and, releasing the clutch, touched the gas pedal. The car moved smoothly.
“Tell me where to go,” I said after we left the gravel driveway connecting Khalid’s estate with one of the secondary roads.
“Turn left, go to the first intersection, and then left again and you’ll be on the road that connects Copper Ridge and Red Cliffs.”
As we approached the intersection, I saw two roads going in the same direction. Both were clean and dry. One looked old, even though it was in good condition. The other road, running parallel to the first one as far as the eye could see, was brand new and straight as an arrow.
Before I made the second turn, I slowed down, unsure which one Khalid wanted me to take. “Did you mean the old road or the new one? Do they both lead to Red Cliffs?”
For a long moment he didn’t say anything, just looked at me with a smile. “They do indeed,” he said. “See that hill in the distance? The old road goes across it; the new through it. One is more scenic, the other one is faster.”
“We’ll leave the scenic route for another time.” I pressed the gas pedal and changed gears. With a mighty roar, the Aston hit the new road.