Bernice walked slowly back to her office, sure Huub had already fled the conference room. The last thing either one of them wanted was another pointless confrontation. What was done was done. Zelda Richardson had said “yes”, as Marianne assured her she would. They were lucky Marianne mentioned her; Bernice hadn’t expected to find a qualified volunteer at such short notice. At least she hoped Zelda’s being a native speaker would be enough to satisfy Leo de Boer, the director of the Amsterdam Museum; the girl didn’t have any official training as a translator or editor.
Not that they had a choice; there was no time or money left to do it any other way. She’d warned Leo from the start that Huub’s team wasn’t sufficiently trained to translate all of those texts; they should have hired a professional translator months ago. If Huub wasn’t such a control freak, Leo would have been less inclined to agree with him.
Since being named head curator of the Stolen Objects exhibition, Huub had become obsessed with every aspect of it, far more than any other curator on the team, even volunteering – no demanding – to lead both the collection research and website project groups. If Bernice hadn’t known about his past, she might think his obsession was bordering on unhealthy. Yet it was his family history and previous accomplishments which granted him a level of trust no other curator had enjoyed, so far as she could remember in her twenty-seven years at the museum.
Well this time even Leo had to admit he hadn’t been critical enough. Her blood pressure began to rise just thinking about their current predicament, which Huub’s obstinacy had gotten them into.
“Think on your heart,” Bernice mumbled. She stopped in the empty corridor and inhaled deeply, feeling the calm flowing back through her amble body as she exhaled. As the second breath slowed her pulse, Bernice tried visualizing the clear blue skies and deep green leaves of the Suriname River’s jungle-encrusted banks, visible from the veranda of her second home on the outskirts of Paramaribo, as her doctor had taught her. She scratched at her scalp, wondering if it wasn’t the heart medicine but stress that was causing her hair to fall out. Maybe with enough rest and fresh air, it would grow back and she could finally be rid of this itchy wig. She’d already submitted her request for early retirement due to medical reasons; Leo should approve it before the end of the month. Only five more projects to go and she was free. Her heart wasn’t going to let her grow old, not if she let Huub and the others continue to get under her skin.
When her pulse rate returned to normal, she continued on to her office. She still wasn’t sure Zelda was the right person for the job, but she’d done all she could to get them out of this mess, as any good project manager would.
Bernice closed the door behind her, resolving to forget about Huub and the faulty translations for now. After pulling off her wig, she ran her hand over her bare scalp and sighed in relief. Then she grabbed an empty box and set to work organizing the mountains of paperwork cluttering up her usually pristine office.