The Dimpled Twin {✔}

II

At noon, instead of Marguerite, the Director of the museum himself came. I pulled myself out from under a propped up sculpture and smoothed my dress.

"Oui, monsieur?" I asked.

"Hello," he greeted me in English, "I've just come to tell our esteemed guest myself that there will be a gala for the museum tonight, and I'd like you to come to watch the paintings in your workroom so you can assure that your painting, The Lilies, is safe. There's been a couple of robberies of museums in the past year, but I don't think it's serious enough to cancel a function we've been planning for months. I thought you would be the perfect woman for the job, seeing as you don't look conspicuous being as young as you are, and have better eyes than some of our old guards''. He smiled at me conspiratorially. "They've been here so long we haven't the heart to replace them, but some of them, well their eyesight isn't what it was when they were 22".

I smiled back but then asked, "The guards will be there, though, in case anything happens?"

"Of course," he assured me, "And don't worry, I don't think anything will happen. Otherwise, I wouldn't put you in this position. I'll also throw a tarp over the entrance and put a few statues in front of it, so it will be harder to find for someone who doesn't know where it is. Now, you're free to go on your lunch break. Remember to get here at 8 o'clock". I thanked him and left the museum. When I got outside, I saw Avellino was already there with his motorcycle, an American Harley, with a picnic basket on the back. I always noticed the way he looked at me whenever he saw me, looking me up and down, drinking me in, as if I would be taken from him any second. It was in a way that would make me self-conscious if it were any other man, but Avellino never did it creepily, like the men in the alleys of Philly, or the rough-looking men in bars around here. I ran over, and he twirled me around, dipping me, and sending me into a fit of giggles.

"Good afternoon Stella," he said once he pulled me up, "J'ai un kater," he grinned, blending English, French and German to tell me he had a hangover.

I laughed.

"Me too, keine Sorge," don't worry. 

He gestured to the motorcycle, "On y va!" he said, telling me, "Let's go!"

"Where to?" I asked, climbing on.

"Un pique-nique," he said with a smile, as he started the motorcycle and drove off.

He took us to a little hill outside the city where there were fewer buildings and more fresh air. As he spread out the blanket and food, I lay back and let the sun hit my face.

"How was work today?" he asked,

"Oh, it was a blast," I said nonchalantly. "I looked at a bunch of new artwork that just got shipped into the Musee d'Orsay, and I think I may have found a great piece for the Gallery back home, it's an old 18th-century work called The Lilies and they're allowing us to have it!". Then I remembered something. "Right! Avellino, there's a bash at the Musee tonight, and I was wondering if you'd come as my plus one. I'm supposed to be looking after some paintings, but we can sneak a few moments together in, I think".

"I'd love that," he said warmly, "What time?"

"Eight," I replied.

"Sounds trés bon to me," he said, pausing for a second as if he was unsure of how to phrase his next remark, "Where do you work in the museum? I can...I can leave you a little note for you to see when I'm gone".

My heart swelled. "That's so sweet of you! The workroom where the paintings are is near the front of the great hall. It will probably be covered by statues, though".

"Great, I'll leave it under something."

"Oh! Put it under the big chair that's to the left of the door."

"Got it, now let's eat! I didn't bring these sandwiches and tea for you to go back to work hungry", and tilted the basket to me.