Page 36 of The Stolen Queen

All eyes turned to Annie. She was an oaf; the last place she should be working was a museum. She’d probably be fired before the week was over.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, grabbing her napkin and futilely dabbing at the lake of liquid that was forming on the tabletop.

The man with the tray let out a laugh. “It’s my fault, I’m so hungry I was walking way too fast.”

He wore a navy blue security guard uniform. She guessed he was only a few years older than she was, with long arms and skinny wrists that extended a few inches out from the hems of his jacket sleeves.

“That’ll teach me,” he said cheerily. Thethsound came out as ad, an accent particular to the outer boroughs.

He put his tray down on a nearby table and jogged off to get a large pile of napkins. Once he returned and they’d cleaned up the mess, he pulled out the chair opposite hers, his pasta still steaming, and sat. “Wait a minute, can I get you another drink?” he asked, holding his fork in the air. “Tea, was it?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.”

But he ran off again, this time coming back with a tea with exactly the right amount of milk.

She took it from him gratefully.

“Thank you,” she said. “Again, I’m sorry for bumping into you.”

“I was going to have to sit and eat dinner alone, so I consider it an opportunity. Wait a minute, is it okay if I sit here? I’ll be done fast; I only have ten minutes before I start my shift.”

“Of course, it’s fine.”

“What do you do here?” he asked.

“I’m the assistant to Diana Vreeland in the Costume Institute,” she said proudly.

“Dee-what?”

“Diahna,” repeated Annie. “Like the regular name Diana, but fancy.”

“The Costume Institute. Right. I’ve never worked one of the Met Galas before, but I signed up this year. I hear the toughest part is telling Mick Jagger not to smoke in the bathroom.”

Annie laughed. “I imagine he’d just ignore you. Or tell you off and have his bodyguards throw you into the fountain.”

Her dinner companion got a slightly panicked look in his eyes.

“I’m kidding, I’m sure he’s a sweetheart. I’m Annie, by the way.”

“Billy.” They shook hands.

“Where are you from, Billy?”

“Brooklyn, like pretty much every other guard in this place. It’s basically a huge, connected network of us, a union job, so it’s a good one. I started a month ago, got it through my uncle Marco.”

“Do you like it?”

“At first, all that standing around for twelve hours at a time did me in. I had sore feet, a sore back. But now I’m used to it.”

“Do you get bored?”

“Nah. There’s always some interesting person to watch, wonder who they are, where they’re from. Or, if it’s quiet, I’ll stare at the paintings or the suits of armor and let my mind wander. Imagine some poor dope riding a horse wearing all that metal while trying to poke someone else with a lance. There are so many galleries and so many objects, I don’t think it’s possible to get bored.” He held up one finger. “Actually, I take that back. It gets boring when you’re asked the same question over and over.”

“What question is that?”

“ ‘Where’s the whale?’ Then I have to let some poor family down gently that it’s all the way across the park at the Museum of Natural History. I’ve seen kids melt down fast when they hear that. But then I tell them about the mummies and they perk back up. My favorite assignment is the Great Hall because it’s nonstop busy and time flies by. The worst is when you get Section D.”

“What’s that?”

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