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AFEW DAYS LATER, I’M BACK IN THE LIBRARY.FOR THE FIRST TIME IN Along time, I’m working on a paper that isn’t about Josephine or those damned interminable Tulleys, and it’s a nice palate cleanser. Just a standard literary theory and criticism essay I can otherwise do in my sleep.
From my seat near the entrance to the archives and Mr. Baxley’s fortress, I spy him approaching me out of the corner of my eye.
Stiffly, as if afraid to be seen speaking to me, he stands beside the table.
“Was my typing too loud?” I ask with a grin.
“You’ll not be requesting access to the special sections today?”
I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed someone fail so hard at trying to act casual.
I set my laptop aside. “So you did miss me.”
“Am I to conclude you’ve completed your research then?”
He looks like he’s in pain, like the effort of engaging in human contact is almost too agonizing to endure. I worry for his health if he attempts to keep this up. It’s sort of sweet, though. I had no idea he cared so much.
“Not really, no. Without more clues to chase down, I don’t think there’s anything else in this building that can help me.”
“Is that right?” The mask slips, an expression of concern overtaking his usual scowl of contempt. “That’s unfortunate.”
With my foot, I push out a chair for him to join me.
Several beats tick by.
Just when I’ve given up, Mr. Baxley sits down. While still letting me know with his eyes drifting elsewhere that he’s only half interested in this conversation.
“I was able to find out that Robert and William Tulley were at odds right before theVictoriasinking,” I tell him. “I don’t know about what, but the hidden letter from Josephine about being torn between two men would absolutely be a motive for a falling-out between the brothers. I still have no idea if William was alone when he boarded the ship, as he was added to the passenger list at the last minute. I managed to locate the office where all the records for the Northern Star Line are archived—that’s the shipping company that owned theVictoria. A clerk there is trying to track down any documents related to the ship that haven’t been donated to museums. Maybe those will shed light on whether Josephine was ever on that boat.”
“And the eldest Tulley?”
“There’s speculation that Robert’s disappearance was him running off to Ireland under an assumed name. Whether that was to hide his new bride or to escape the loss of his love to his own brother, who knows? Or maybe,” I say and offer a wry smile, “I’ve concocted this entire story in my head and none of it has anything to do with anything.”
“I see” is his enigmatic response.
“If I had a shrink, they’d tell me I’m projecting, right? Two elusive men fighting over the same woman. A little art imitating life?”
Mr. Baxley responds with a questioning look.
“Okay, so there’s these guys. And they both say they’re into me. But they don’t want to be with me. Or can’t. Depending on what you believe.”
I have no earthly right unloading on this poor man. Except that I have few other people to unleash my thoughts on, and once I get going, the release is so satisfying I can’t stop midstream.
“But then how much can they really like me, right? I mean, if you want something bad enough, you give up the family titles and fortune to move to Ireland and change your name. You cross an ocean with nothing but the clothes on your back. You definitely don’t kiss her and then say, ‘Let’s just be friends.’ That’s a dick move.”
Mr. Baxley stares at me. He all but shrinks behind his glasses, his chin receding into his neck. A man inexplicably pinned to his chair despite every fiber of his being screaming to run from this oversharing girl.
“I didn’t get off the plane looking to date my way through London, you know? A love interest wasn’t anywhere on my list of priorities. And now I have two. And they’re both so wishy-washy my head is spinning.” I heave a dramatic sigh, not unlike one Lee would bestow on someone. “But this is my fate now, I guess. To be desired but not enough. An ornament on a shelf they want to pull down and play with when it’s convenient. These men. What did a girl ever do to deserve them, Mr. Baxley?”
My phone buzzes on the table.
Nate: We need to talk.
“See?” I flash the phone at Mr. Baxley, who sits flustered and unmoving across the table. I’m not sure he’s breathing. “This shit. Sorry. But seriously, what do we have to talk about? You have a girlfriend, bro.”
I tap out a quick response.
Me: No we don’t.
