Colder Than Ice (38 page)

“There’ve
been a few changes since we got back. Rick’s been removed. It seems someone got
wind of his indirect involvement in Ewan’s death. There was a media circus and
old man Peterson asked for his resignation. When Rick didn’t resign, Peterson
removed him. Dianne dropped him like a brick and she’s now heading up the
Museum’s archaeological department. So, you could say I currently work for her.
But I’m fielding a few offers which may or may not come off.”

But
how would I contact you if you left?
Michela
silently thought, afraid of how to broach such a question. “I saw their
gravestones today, Charlotte and Elizabeth’s that is. They’re beautiful, Alli.
I took some pictures of the site for you. Would you mind if I sent them to your
work address?”

“I’d
like that a lot,” she quietly said.

“I
spoke with Charlotte today. It seems her grandmother kept a diary and that
confirms they were married and were lovers.”

“I
guessed that. The final entries in Elizabeth’s diary answers that question. Her
profession of love to Charlotte could only be that of a lover. Her words are so
strong, so full of emotion.” Allison’s eyes filled with such pain and
longing that Michela bit her lip to stop from reacting to it.

Michela
closed her eyes in resignation. She opened them with the knowledge that it
might be the last time she ever saw Allison. “I’d better sign off. Do you
want me to get Charlotte?”

Allison
shook her head. “No, we’ve finished our business.”

Michela
searched for another reason to prolong the conversation and found none.
“I’d better let you go. I really hope everything turns out for you down
there. Take care of yourself,” she whispered, her voice choked with
emotion.

Allison
nodded, her eyes glistening. “You too.” Her image dissolved.

“I
love you,” Michela said.

My
Darling Charlotte,

There
is only me now and every day the chore of keeping this diary becomes
increasingly difficult. I do not know how much longer I will be able to write
to you, however, I shall continue to do so while I have the strength.

I
do not rise any more, instead spending the day in bed, reminiscing over our
happy times together. There are so many times between the two of us I can
recall and yet I fear there will be no more. Yesterday I dreamt of that first
night, when you had the strength to take me in your arms. I am so glad you did,
my love, for I fear I would have never possessed the courage to take that first
step. Our love making that night was sweet and passionate, such as I had never
experienced before.

I
have so little time left and yet there is so much to say. Tell our son I love
him and that I will always be there for him. More importantly, take care of
yourself, my darling. Mourn for what we shared together but look toward the
future also. It would sadden me if you did not allow yourself to again find
happiness.

I
am going to stop now as it tires me to write. I do not know if there will be
another entry after this, so know, my Charlotte, that I will always be with you
and will love you no matter where either of us finds ourselves. There will come
a time when again we will be reunited. I will wait for you, forever, if need
be. All my love

Elizabeth

Houston—2010

CHRISTINE
FLOPPED DOWN on the sofa. “Heaven’s, sis, don’t tell me you’ve taken a vow
of celibacy.”

Michela
looked up from the pile of mail she was sorting through. She dearly loved her
sister’s visits, but recently Christine had taken it upon herself to find
another woman for her and it was driving her crazy. “I haven’t taken a vow
of celibacy. I’m not interested.”

“It’s
been almost fifteen months since your break up with Natalie. What are you
waiting for?”

Michela
waved her hand. “I’m over that and you know it.”

Frustrated,
Christine shook her head. “And it’s been over five months since you
returned from Antarctica. Have you gotten over Alli as well?”

Michela
shot a warning glare at Christine. “Don’t go there, please.”

Christine
pulled a magazine off the coffee table. “At least let me introduce you to
some female friends of mine.”

Michela
shook her head as she continued to sort through the mail. “Like the last
woman you set me up with? What was her name again, Missy or Misty something?
The woman was an octopus.”

Christine
laughed. “She seemed intelligent, with a good sense of humor and, well,
reserved when I spoke with her. How was I to know she was a nymphomaniac?
Anyone can get it wrong sometimes.”

Michela
sagely nodded. “So how do you explain Eleanor?”

Christine
threw her head back in exasperation. “How was I to know she was a
right-wing extremist? How many lesbians do you know who are right-wing extremists?”

Michela
chuckled. “That woman had more hang ups than a closet. I couldn’t believe
it when she launched into a dissertation on the superiority of the white race.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“Hmm,
she looked so reasonable on the surface.” Christine tilted her head, a
pleading look on her face. “Let me have one more go. I promise I’ll get it
right this time. In fact, I’ll run a background check if you like.”

Michela
shook her head. “Chrissie, I’m not interested.”
Not in anyone on
this side of the equator anyway.
“Let’s leave it at that.” A
thick gilt envelope dropped from the business mail and onto the desk.
“What’s this?” She opened the extravagant envelope.

Christine
leant forward. “What’s what?”

Michela
read the contents of the invitation and smiled. “Charlotte Finlayson’s
finally secured the complete Antarctica Finlayson collection. She’s having an
exhibition at the local museum and, to celebrate its opening, she’s having a
casual cocktail party for selected guests next week. It seems I’m
invited.”

“Is
it stag, or do you get to take someone?”

Michela
turned over the cream invitation card and found a hand written note on the
back. “It says I’m more than welcome to bring someone. Charlotte says the
exhibit will be open for a private viewing the day before the crowds
descend.”

“God,
that leaves me little time to find someone to go with you.”

Michela
smiled at Christine.
I’ll give her ten points for persistence but zero for
success.
“You’re not listening, are you? I don’t want to take a date
and I don’t want a woman right now. I’m more than happy by myself.”
Except
at night when I can’t stop dreaming about Alli.

Christine
turned her best sorrowful expression at Michela. “Please yourself, but at
least take me. I haven’t seen anything except the pictures you brought back
from Antarctica.”

Michela
laughed. “Okay, we’ll go together. But I want you to behave. There’ll be
no setting me up with eligible women or I’ll tie you up and leave you in your
room for the duration.”

“Where
are we staying?”

“Charlotte’s
note says she expects me to stay at her home, so I guess that means you as
well. I’ll have to give her a call and make sure it’s okay.” Michela gave
Charlotte a quick call. “She says it’s okay.”

Christine
stood and headed for the door.

“Where
are you going?” Michela asked.

“Where
do you think I’m going? Just because you want to live like a nun, doesn’t mean
I have to. There’s bound to be eligible men at this soiree and I want to make
sure I’m ready for them. I’m going shopping. Something you could try more than
once a year.”

Michela
chuckled. “I just don’t see the need for the incredibly large wardrobe you
have.” She made a shooing motion. “Off with you then, and don’t spend
all your money.”

Michela
sat down at her desk, the piles of sorted mail spread out in front of her. She
picked up the invite again and lightly tapped it against the side of her head.
Allison
would love this. An exhibition of the Finlayson dig and, after so many years,
returning again to her home country.

She
leaned back and sadly visualized Allison’s features. She pulled a series of
loose photographs from her top drawer and found her favorite. Allison, the
layers of cold weather gear making her look larger than her well-defined,
slighter frame, smiled at the camera as she held the Finlayson diary, next to
the cot where it had been found clutched in the hands of its previous owner.
Michela traced Allison’s features with her finger. “God help me, I still
miss you,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

“AND
THIS PERSON here is Ella, my sanity valve,” Charlotte said.

Allison
nodded, still taken aback by the size of the mansion. It was like the homes
she’d seen in movies—a sprawling estate, replete with lightly wooded areas and
lush, green gently undulating meadows, dominated by a beautiful, old family
mansion.

Realizing
Ella was waiting, she put out her hand. “Hello, please call me Alli,
everyone else does. I’m sorry to be gawking like a tourist, but this house is
beautiful.”

“Thank
you,” Charlotte said. “It’s been in my family for generations and was
the family residence of Great Grandmothers Charlotte and Elizabeth. If you
like, I’ll give you a tour later, that is if Ella doesn’t beat me to it. Of
course, I could have given you a tour earlier in the week, had you not decided
to stay in town.”

Allison
shrugged. “I’m sorry but it seemed a lot easier to be where the exhibit
was. I tend to get a little self-absorbed when I’m working on a project and end
up keeping very late hours.”

Charlotte
smiled. “Well, you’re here now. Ella, could you show our guest to her
room? Alli, once you’re settled, come downstairs and we can get down to
business.” She motioned to the wood paneled door behind her. “I’ll
meet you in the study if you like.”

Allison
didn’t take long to unpack her small bag and return to the study.

“You’ve
worked wonders with the exhibit,” Charlotte said. “This morning,
looking at the recreation of the interior of the hut, I almost felt I was
there. And the sound effects of that wind are marvelous.”

“I’m
glad you like it,” Allison said. “I’d have liked to do something
similar at the Flinders Museum, but the patron wasn’t interested. He seemed
more focused on getting the artifacts on display as soon as possible.”

Charlotte
clicked her tongue and shook her head. “It sounds like his only intent was
to start reaping in the profits from the exhibit. How did you manage to
recreate the wind? It sounds like Antarctica itself.”

Allison
blushed with pride. “It is from Antarctica. Sarah, the glaciologist on the
expedition, is back on the Continent. I contacted her and she agreed to record
two hours of a windstorm. I looped it so that it repeats every two hours. It
really does add to the hut’s ambience.”

“It
certainly does. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“There
are still some things I have to finish up before the official opening tomorrow
evening,” Allison said. “Plus, there have been some private visitors
through already this morning and so I’m keen to make sure everything is where
it should be. I think I’ll head back to the exhibit and tinker a little bit
more before I call it a day.”

Charlotte
wagged a finger at Allison. “Make sure you’re back here tonight in time
for the cocktail party. Now it’s informal, but there are a lot of people I’d
like you to meet. Your room has all the luxuries of a hotel room, so make
yourself comfortable. But don’t be late.”

Allison
nodded. “I promise I won’t be. A couple of more hours should be enough to
ensure everything is perfect for tomorrow’s official opening.”

“Michael,
my driver, is at your disposal. Have Ella page him and he’ll take you back to
the museum.”

“Thank
you.” Allison stood. “I’ll see you later then.”

“IF
WE’RE COMING to the official opening of the exhibit tomorrow, why are we here
this afternoon?”

Michela
smiled. “I want to take a peek without being jostled by a group of curious
onlookers. Besides, this way I can talk you through the exhibit without
becoming the unofficial tour guide to a group of hangers-on.”

Michela
held her breath as she walked into the hall. She stared in amazement at an
almost full-size replica of Finlayson’s hut, complete with artifacts. She
glanced at the panels recording the history of the explorer and then walked
into the hut itself. She closed her eyes as she recalled the last time she’d stood
in the real structure, with Allison by her side. It had been the day before Rob
boarded up the hut and they took the opportunity to have one last look at it.
Allison recorded pictures of every nook and cranny. It was obvious these
pictures had contributed to the room Michela now stood in. Charlotte had spared
no expense in recreating this piece of family history. “This is amazing.
It’s exactly as it was on the continent.”

Christine
walked around, gazing at the weather-beaten wooden walls. Bottles, tins, and
jars from an era long gone adorned the shelves. The wooden table, set with a
meal, was covered with a cornucopia of old tins—cocoa, condensed milk, and
fruit cake. “I almost feel as if I’m there.”