Milo... Girl Talk
By Pattie Lawler
Halley swirled the dredges of her tepid cocoa. “What have you told him about your
mother?”
A soft laugh lifted one side of Albany’s mouth. “Funny you should
ask.”
“Oh?”
Nodding, she pushed the powder away from the edge of her dressing table and reached
for her bottle of water. “In checking my background, Milo learned all about Mom. He
said he thought about finding her, as a surprise. When he got my feelings on the subject,
he let it go, but later changed his mind and located her in Utah.”
“Seriously?”
Albany paused to drink. “Yup. He decided to see if our announcement
would...well, turn her into a gold-digger.”
Halley’s eyes grew wide. “And how did he do that?”
Albany’s smile returned. “You know that sort of lottery where you win for
being the one thousandth customer? You kind where you don’t have to actually do something?”
“No!”
“Yes. He arranged for her to win a hundred thousand dollars, tax free.”
Halley dropped back in her seat, staring incredulously. “Lucky Mom! So, what
happened?”
“So far, all she’s done is paid bills. Milo thought that if she blew
through it in a week, we should worry.”
“And what about you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t want to see her, if that’s what you
mean.”
Halley leaned forward, her hand closing on Albany’s for a gentle squeeze.
“Now, tell me about Mr. Lingerie. I can’t believe I’ve missed so much! My
only big sister engaged while I’m out working like a dog. See what happens when I
leave you alone? You’re not to be trusted, that’s for sure. But tell me what
sold you on him? The money? The gifts? The sex?”
“The bathroom.” Halley snorted with laughter as Albany nodded. “Wait
‘til you see it! Trust me. You marry a man with a bathroom like that!”
“And what’s it like, little Miss I-have-a-bodyguard, living with
servants?”
“We don’t, actually. Not here at the penthouse, anyway. Milo was brought
up without them. His father thought they should learn to do things on their own and not be
pampered. All the services of the hotel are available for the asking, though. I’ll
never pay for dry cleaning again. But other than housekeeping in the morning, we’re
pretty much on our own. Oh, and we have a chef, though I really haven’t used him yet.
Except for breakfast.”
Halley shook her head in wonder. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or
horrified.”
Albany laughed. “Don’t worry. He has other foibles we couldn’t
afford. Like the cars. There’s like a dozen of them, and if they’re not
spotless, and I mean showroom clean, he’ll
wait for them to wash it or get another.” She waved her hand at the wide world beyond
the walls. “In all that snow and slush, I’m being driven in a car that looks
seconds old. It’s unreal.”
“A dozen, huh? And how many houses?”
“Five, not counting the hotel chain.”
“Dang, Al.”
“Yeah. It’s an adjustment.”
Halley rolled her eyes. “It’s too perfect, you mean! If this were coming
from anyone else but you, I’d say they were selling me shit.”
“Yeah. I’m with you on that. But it really is perfect, believe me. Oh,
and Halley,” she sobered, “you were so right. I did know right away. There wasn’t a second of
doubt. It was amazing. And even better, he loves me. Me!”
“You’re totally lovable. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Albany waved this away. “He said that a few days before we met, he was
approached by a gypsy who told him he would meet me.”
“Wow, that’s just too romantic.” She jerked up. “I’ve just
discovered that I have a jealousy meter, and it’s climbing.”
“He’s taking me to Paris this weekend.”
“Dangerously high meter reading.”
Albany laughed, sparkling with delight.
“He has business, but wants to look for a designer for my gowns.”
“Okay,” Halley sat forward, snapping her empty cup on the dressing table.
“That’s enough. You broke the meter, and I’m concocting ways of faking a
mezzo and trading places with you.”
Albany rocked back, laughing. “Oh no. I’ll fight you to the death for
him.”
“Then I guess things are good in the bedroom?”
“Poor Milo.” She twisted the water bottle between both hands. “Seems
his past was as disastrous as mine.”
“Oh, Al. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’ve trained each other very well and I have no
complaints.”
“None?” Halley laughed, her eyes wide as she sat back.
“Well...” Albany’s lips against lifted in a rueful smile.
“We’ve had more stand-up sex than all my other lovers combined. And in the
darnedest places.”
“Like?”
“Like the Met.”
“The Met!”
Albany also laughed at the image, nodding. “He can get in after hours.”
“Apparently.”
“Halley!”
She snorted, her eyes alight. “Can you blame me? It was too easy!”
“I’m tellin’ ya, Halley. No complaints.”
“Excellent. And what about the niece? You said she has gray hair?”
Albany nodded. “She likes to be called Fanny, not Fran, is into Goth, is home
schooled, loves to shop and seems to adore me. I’d like you to come with us tonight,
please. Fanny’s been begging me to go to karaoke.”
“Of course I’ll come! I want to question Milo up close and
personal.”
“Good. And dinner’s on us.”
Halley snorted again. “As a future billionaire, you’re darn right it
is!”
Albany slid a piece of paper from beneath her purse and held it out, an angelic
smile on her lips. “Here’s your piece. It’s one of Fanny’s favorites.
Learn it.”
<0>
Both singers were beginning to fade when Milo called a halt. Fanny had been lining
up songs for hours, and no one wanted to disappoint her, but enough was enough. He gently
lifted the massive book of songs from her hands and raised an eyebrow at the openings of
her protest. The look alone was enough to close her mouth. Milo gave her a smile and nod
as he set the book down on the table.
“That was incredible,” he said, his hand reaching for Fanny’s.
“Don’t you think?”
She beamed at him, and then at Albany and Halley. “Yes, thank you.”
Halley’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “It was fun, Fanny. Thank you for
having me along.”
Albany made a comment which drew Halley’s attention. Milo smiled as the three
women laughed about imagined kidnappings. The smile Albany bestowed upon her friend tugged
at his heart, warming his soul.
To date, this was the only time he had seen Albany with a peer where opera
wasn’t the focus of the event. Once again he was struck by how rapidly their
relationship had progressed, and by now natural it felt.
Halley snorted at something Fanny said, and Milo wondered what it would be like to
have a wife with such an unladylike tendency. Albany was the epitome of femininity in
public. But if she did have an offensive habit, he felt confident that he could address
her about it and receive an honest reply. She hadn’t scrupled to tell him she thought
he was wrong with regards to sending Fanny to school.
He marveled again at the openness between them and smiled at the thought, only to
focus and find her smiling at him. He realized his ruminations had caused him to miss a
question, and they were awaiting his reply.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Albany kissed his cheek. “We’re going home, my love. It’s time for
all good singers to be working on their complexion so we’re dropping Halley at Penn.”
He rose. “I’ll call for the car.”
“I’ll go with you,” Halley said, grabbing her purse. “I wanna
call Scott before I leave.”
“We’ll hit the ladies room and meet you in the lobby,” Albany said,
nodding toward Fanny.
Milo held the door for them all and saw Fanny catch Albany’s hand as they went
by.
“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Scarlet,” Halley said softly, her eyes
also on the retreating couple.
He looked down at his guest. “Yes, I am.”
“I’ve never seen Albany this happy, and I’ve never met anyone so
deserving. Here.” She held out a folded piece of paper. “I didn’t want to
call Scott. I wanted to give this to you. Read it when you’re alone.”
He bowed his thanks and pushed the paper into his breast pocket while reaching for
his cell.
<0>
Simon held the door for Halley as the car idled beside Penn Station. Halley kissed
everyone goodnight before slipping into the cold and hurrying toward the building. As she
was consumed by the crowd, Albany turned to Fanny.
“That’s some snort, huh?”
Fanny laughed, lying against her. “Promise you’ll point out any odd
habits I develop.”
Milo smirked, taking Albany’s hand. “You’re not developing any while
I’m the daddy.”
Fanny giggled. “The daddy.” She burrowed deeper into Albany’s scarf.
Milo met Albany’s eyes, and they shared a smile over Fanny’s head before
Albany changed the subject.
“Halley was born on February ninth.”
“Ah! So she’s named for the comet,” Milo said, releasing Albany’s
hand and withdrawing his BlackBerry from his pocket to check his email. “Only, she
pronounces it correctly, unlike all of America.”
“She has a little rhyme to correct people. Her mother made up when she started
school. Halley rhymes with smalley because she is no
talley.”
“I thought it was an odd name,” Fanny murmured from the depths of Albany’s
shoulder.
Albany smiled, wrapping her arms around her. “Me, you and Halley. We’re
quite a collection of strange names, aren’t we?”
Fanny smiled, snuggling closer. “When are you leaving?”
“Us?” Albany looked down. “You’re not coming?”
“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”
Albany sank back. “I’m not hurt.”
Fanny laughed, hugging her. “Maybe next time.”
<0>
Milo stepped into his dressing room as, across the hall, Albany closed the bathroom
door. Removing his jacket, he slipped the paper from Halley out of his pocket and unfolded
it. It was a printout of an email from Albany to Halley, dated the day he pushed Albany
from the path of a cursed sword.
Hal, I met him. The One. And you were right,
I knew instantly. But...how can I convince him I’m HIS One? What a horrifying
position to be in! God! I might never see him again. Hurry back! I need assurances.
Milo read the few sentences a dozen times, and with each repetition his smile
grew. When the bathroom door opened, he hurried to Albany.
“Look what Halley gave me.” He held the page out.
Albany took it, read it, and shyly smiled up at him.
He bent to her ear. “Come to bed and convince me again.”
“But I need assurances.”
“They’re what I’ll give you in exchange for convincing me.”
<0>
Albany made a thorough examination of their new jet while Milo checked his email.
Occasionally, he would look up and chuckle at her, as she opened doors and peered in
cupboards, expressing her disbelief with childlike enthusiasm.
“Joe says we can have tickets to see Werther,
if you’d like.”
Albany launched into a dramatic rendition of Werther!
Qui m'aurait dit and threw herself into his lap, singing the while. He smiled,
wrapping his arms around her, waiting for her to draw breath.
“That’s amazing,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s like
it’s all bottled up inside you, just waiting to burst out.”
She laughed. “Sometimes it feels that way.” She gestured to the laptop.
“You’ve been checking your mail obsessively for the past week. What’s up?
Why are we going to France? Not that I have any objections, mind you.”
He reached around her, turning the computer so they both could see. “This
interesting bit of wood,” he moved the curser over a dark image, “produces this
print,” he toggled screens and allowed her a moment of silence to examine the image
of a crucified Christ’s arm from the elbow to the end of the cross; a pointing, Roman
centurion, and a pair of soldiers. A ribbon of ornate script issued from the
centurion’s mouth. Milo read aloud as Albany’s finger traced the curled band of
text.
“Vere Dei Filius erat iste. Truly this was the Son
of God. This woodblock is known as the Bois Protat, is considered the oldest western
woodblock print and was donated to the prints department of the Bibliothèque Nationale de
France in 2001.”
“And your interest lies where?”
His hands left the computer and stroked her
back. “Since taking possession of the Bois, there have been five attempts to steal
it.”
“So?”
“So another part of the whole picture,
in this case the opposite side of the cross where the image is of the three Marys, has
been offered to the library.”
She raised her eye brows in silent question.
“So they want me to find out who is
trying to steal the first piece before announcing they have another.”
“And you plan on doing this how?”
He grinned at her. “By asking the Bois,
of course.”