Page 82 of Possession Under the Southern Stars

I nod. “If it means saving the museum, I’ll do anything.”

She smiles. “Good girl.”

“What about Fraser?”

“I’ve suggested we give each other a few days to think about things. I have a meeting with him on Monday afternoon to discuss where we go from here. I want him to think about his actions for a while.”

“He’s very sorry,” I say immediately. “He’s gutted that he’s let you down, and himself. He loves the museum. The last thing he’d want to do would be to put it in jeopardy. He felt he’d let you down, and his father, of course. You know Atticus Bell was friends with Sebastian Williams?”

Her eyebrows rise. “No. I’ve met them both, but I didn’t realize they knew each other.”

“Fraser’s father was very strict with his children while they were growing up. Not in a physical sense, nothing like that, but he set incredibly high standards for them. Joel—the middle child—realized early on, I think, that he would never be able to meet them, and just gave up and went his own way. I don’t know if you know what happened to their sister, Elora?”

“I do,” she says. “Fraser told me some time ago.”

That surprises me, as he rarely talks about it, and it reinforces how close he is to Whina. “Well, she’s obviously struggled to recover from her assault. Fraser was the one who suggested she go to university in Wellington so he could keep an eye on her. I’ve only known them both a year, but from what I understand, he was a rock for her those first few years. He supported her, took her to therapy, and gave her just enough room to breathe while making sure she felt safe and supported.She’s said several times that without him she’d still be cowering in her room in Hanmer Springs.”

“I didn’t know that,” Whina murmurs.

“I’m not trying to influence your decision,” I say. Then I think, be honest, Hallie. “Or maybe I am. I just want you to have the whole picture. He’s tried so hard to be the kind of man his father expects him to be. And I know he looks up to you, too. He’s always trying to be the Fraser that everyone else wants. To be honest, I think he’s been so worried about it all that the pressure kinda got to him. He was depressed about the museum’s financial situation. He thought he could talk Isabel around, and when it went wrong, he didn’t know how to handle it. And he just kind of broke and thought fuck it. Oh, sorry.”

Her lips curve up. “You think that’s why the two of you finally hooked up?”

I give a short laugh. “Maybe. It’s one reason, anyway.” I give her a curious look. “He really said he was in love with me?”

“He said he had been for a long time. My guess is that he liked you from the moment you started work there, but after the problems with Ginger, he did his best to ignore it.”

“I was with someone else, too,” I admit. “And he’d never have made a move on me until I was free.”

“When did you break up with your ex?”

“Last Friday.”

“Oh…” She laughs. “Well, that explains a lot.” She sips her iced tea, her eyes twinkling. “Are you in love with him, too?”

I look down at my drink as I swirl the liquid over the ice. I am… but my spirits sink slowly as I think about the pointlessness of our situation. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “I’m not good enough for him.”

She glares at me then. “Young lady, what a terrible thing to say. No person on this earth is better than another.”

“That’s an admirable point of view, but it’s not really practical. His father is a deacon, and from what he’s told me about him, I’m really not the sort of girl he’d like for his son.”

“Why?” she asks, clearly baffled. “What can you possibly have done to make that statement true?”

I put down my drink. “I’d rather not discuss my relationship with Fraser, if that’s okay.”

She bites her bottom lip, then says, “No, you’re right. It’s none of my business. Okay, let’s concentrate on the museum, and I’ll go through my idea. Are you busy Saturday?”

“No.”

“Good. Then this is how I think you can help.”

Chapter Twenty

Fraser

I manage to make it to four o’clock before I give in and go down to the conservation office.

Hallie’s in there, alone, working on restoring the carved woodenwaka huiaor Maori ornamental box. She’s in her white lab coat, and I stand in the doorway for a moment, watching her where she’s bent over the table looking at the box beneath a magnifying glass as she scrapes away some minute traces of dirt.

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