Thomas took the flute as Mary stepped closer, lifting his collar and reaching for the bowtie. It was only then that she got a noseful of Thomas’ cologne. He smelled like that cool blast of fragrances that would hit her every time she walked past a perfume shop on the high street, or through the corridors of a duty-free shop at the airport.
‘Thank you for the compliment, by the way,’ Mary said, as she pulled the bowtie knot undone and began again. ‘But the invite you sent me said nothing about this being a gala evening. I feel seriously underdressed here.’
‘Underdressed?’ Thomas dipped his chin to look at Mary again. ‘You’re kidding, right? You look absolutely stunning, Mary. Hands down the most elegant and attractive woman here tonight.’
Mary’s smile was genuine, but she’d been in that same spot before, way too many times, actually – men complimenting her looks, her hair, her dress sense, her shoes, her perfume, showeringher with gifts, acting like true gentlemen at first – just to turn into something completely different, practically overnight. Mary had learned that sad truth the hard way, but right then, the sincerity in Thomas’ voice was somewhat disarming, and she had to gather all of her willpower not to blush.
‘For me to get this right,’ she said, her tone steady, ‘you need to stop moving.’
‘Sorry.’ Thomas did his best to stay as still as possible, though it seemed like he was having trouble keeping his eyes off Mary.
‘And you’re being too kind with your words, but thank you again.’
‘Just being truthful.’
‘There you go,’ Mary said, as she gave his bowtie a final tug to set it in place before folding his collar back down and taking a step back to get the full picture. Thomas looked impeccable. All he needed was a British accent and he could easily audition for the next James Bond.
‘Really?’ Thomas handed Mary’s champagne flute back to her before reaching into his inside pocket for his cellphone. ‘That quick?’ He unlocked the phone, entered camera mode, and quickly held it up in front of him like a mirror. ‘Oh my god, how did you do that? It’s perfect. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ Mary nodded back at him. ‘And you look great, yourself. Very gentleman-chic, I’d say.’
Thomas chuckled. ‘Well, in that case,’ he offered Mary his arm, ‘may I guide you into the exhibition, madam?’
Mary smiled as she placed her arm through his. ‘You may indeed.’
As Thomas guided Mary towards the first exhibition hall, she couldn’t help thinking that talking to him felt both safe and dangerous at the same time. She just had no real idea of how dangerous yet.
Thirty-Six
The inside of the Legion of Honor was just as impressive as its outside. Each exhibition room differed from one another in size, wall color, lighting and, sometimes, its ceiling design. The floors were all varnished wood, with some rooms sporting heavy mahogany benches so that visitors could take their time as they appreciated some of the larger pieces.
The Dark America exhibition itself was comprised of over two hundred works of art, occupying five of the museum’s twenty exhibition halls. The remaining fifteen rooms were closed to the public at that time.
‘Wow, this place is simply amazing,’ Mary said, as she allowed her eyes to take in the hall as a whole.
‘Is this your first time at The Legion?’ Thomas asked, as they paused by a large oil painting on the west wall. It depicted a band of Mohawk Indians brutally attacking a group of US soldiers.
‘It is,’ Mary replied.
‘Well,’ Thomas turned to face her. ‘Prepare to be overwhelmed then. It’s a beautiful museum… inside and out… and you’ve got to come back some other time and have a proper look around – when all the rooms are open to the public, I mean. The rooms alone are worth it, but some of the art pieces in here will blow your mind.’
‘Well, this room is truly beautiful,’ Mary said, lookingaround before bringing her attention back to the Indians and soldiers painting. ‘And this is just as realistic and as brutal as it gets, isn’t it? If we step any closer, we’ll probably get arterial spray.’
Thomas laughed. ‘You’re probably right.’
They slowly began moving from piece to piece, but Mary would be lying if she said that her full attention was focused on the exhibition. She was truly enjoying Thomas’ company. Yes, he was attractive, very charming, incredibly charismatic, and terribly funny at times, but the more they chatted, the more Mary saw hints of a man who was as witty as he was intelligent and to her, that was the biggest aphrodisiac of all.
They moved from room one to room two, and from room two to room three, which, at least until then, became Mary’s favorite room in the exhibition. The room was named ‘The Witches Room’, and rightly so. Every piece in room three, and there were at least thirty of them, including three bronze sculptures, had witches as their main theme. Some were light-hearted, in a lower-school Halloween way, some were a little more serious, some were downright scary, and some were terribly sad, but all of them were incredibly vivid.
Mary’s favorite piece in that room was also the saddest one of them all – a very large six-foot wide by five-foot tall, oil painting of the five most famous American witches burning at the stake in Salem, Massachusetts. The piece was titledInjusticeand the details that the artist had managed to convey with her brushstrokes gave Mary the chills.
Thomas seemed to look just as sad, as he studied the painting. ‘You know what?’ he said, searching the room for one of the waiters. ‘I wouldn’t mind another drink after looking at this one.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Mary agreed, adjusting her shawl over her shoulders to help with the goosebumps.
A waiter with a tray full of Champagne flutes was standing just a couple of steps behind Thomas. He reached for two glasses before passing one to Mary.
Exhibition room number four was titled ‘Scary’ and it was by far the busiest one of them all. At the center of the room there was a life-size waxwork of a witch stirring something inside her smoking, copper caldron. Mary was sure that the smoke coming from inside the caldron was being created by a smoke machine, but it smelled like real food – meat and potato stew, actually – and the realism of the witch itself was mindboggling.