Page 19 of Handle with Care
“I’ve seen the galleries,” Will confirms. “Why?”
“Let’s test out your swipe card and see if you have access to the collections area. That’s important. And if you don’t, we can get Lily to help set that up for you when we see her.”
Blinking, he looks at me as though he’s seeing me for the first time. “Thanks. That’s very thoughtful.”
“Don’t be so surprised.” I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. Who knew I’d get so much mileage out of teasing Will? I’m still trying to figure him out. I mean, there’s a lot to figure out since I don’t know the guy. With a McLaren or a Land Rover or whatever he’s driving, I expected him to be ultra cool, and he is. But also… he’s shy? Or reserved. Or something. That’s definitely unexpected. I expected him to be more of a player, like Raj from the other night, who’s all slick moves and got it down. Maybe Will’s a player and he’s keeping it under wraps at work. Stiff upper lip and all that. Or maybe he simply doesn’t like me and he’s trying to be polite. “Besides, it’s cooler downstairs. Let’s go take a quick break before the meeting, see if we can get you in, and see what’s what.”
We leave the boardroom, and I lead the way to the back stairs. “There’s an elevator too. We’ll take that when we return, but I want to show you the other way down. Sometimes it’s faster, even with the stairs, when people are using the lift. It’s meant for freight, but people use it all the time.”
Will nods, looking stoic as ever. Under his arm, he has his sleek leather folio, and I admire his dedication to advance planning and keeping track of everything. And that he might even consider taking notes from something that I might say. Like it’s important or useful. What a weird idea. Mr. McLaren—Will—listening tome. Two days ago, this would have been a completely impossible scenario, yet here we are.
I lead him through the doors at the back of the office, through another black-painted corridor past the freight lift, to another staircase. We push through the heavy doors, and I trot lightly down the stairs on the balls of my feet. For Will’s part, he takes the stairs more slowly and deliberately than I do, but it doesn’t matter. We keep a good pace.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to tear along,” I tell him as I wait on the next landing down. “I’m excited to show you the collections. It’s way more fun than spreadsheets or textbooks, I promise.”
Will pauses halfway down the last flight of stairs, resting his hand on the rail as he looks at me. “It’s no bother at all.”
And a moment later, we stand together at the bottom of the stairwell before another set of heavy industrial double doors with scuffed paint.
“These need swipe card access to get through. Also, these stairs go up to the back of the galleries, and if you keep going, eventually you get to the roof. You’ll need swipe card access there too.” I gesture back at the stairs. “I’ve checked before, and I can’t get through. Probably only Security can get up there. I bet it’s a wicked view, though.”
“I’m not sure what wickedness has to do with views,” Will says archly. Though I swear his eyes glimmer in the weird light down here. Otherwise, the matte-black walls are sucking in light and making everything flat. Except him. He shines.
“It’s a manner of speech,” I say in mock exasperation. “Let’s try your card, then. This leads into the collections.”
“This is it?” Will’s taken aback as he takes in the dim, and frankly a bit dreary, corridor. “It doesn’t look like much.”
“Exactly the point. It’s better for security in case someone gets this far down the stairs that they don’t know what’s behind these doors. I mean, you can’t get to where we were upstairs without swiping into the office, but still. Not everyone at the museum has access to the collections. The Curatorial team. And Security.”
“Right.” He pulls out his swipe card from his pocket and tries the reader.
The light stays red.
“Try it again.”
But the light still stays stubbornly red.
“I’m glad we’re checking.” I try my card, which gets the green light for entry. I open the heavy door. “We’ll tell Lily so she can get this fixed for you with Security. It’ll be important for when we start receiving the rest of the exhibits that you can get down here.”
We walk through the doors into a dark room, lit only by an emergency light some distance away.
“Hang on. I’ll get the main lights.” I find the switches, which are on an ancient timer, and wind the knob as the room lights up. “You can put in an hour at a time from the back panel here. The front entry has a proper switch. The wiring’s weird down here because this building is so old.”
“Doesn’t that seem like a liability?” Will asks, blinking against the flickering fluorescent lights. “Not to have modern wiring?”
I shrug. “No idea. But that’s what I know. So, here we are. Welcome.”
As the lights adjust to a steadier glow and the flickers fade away, it’s plain to see that we’re standing in the middle of an aisle of industrial shelving that reaches to the ceiling, not that much taller than Will. Who is quite tall, but still. And we can see there are several aisles.
“Let’s tour,” I say with confidence. And we begin, as I describe each section while we walk through.
We stand in the furniture area, both historic and contemporary. There’re chairs and tables and dressers, and then as we walk, pianos and instruments. We go past a small library, with several shelves overflowing with reference books and boxes and odd things in the dim light.
We go past another aisle of furniture before we turn and swipe into an adjoining room of textiles and costume, historical fashion, and modern pieces too. We keep walking, and there’s also a section filled with museum crates, where they’re storedduring exhibitions, the loans from other places. We find a section of ceramics, vases, and plates in cabinets. I point out another room of costumes and other jewelry. “There’s nothing high value in there, by the way. They’re in a vault.”
“Right.” Will’s wide-eyed as he takes in my tour. As expected, he’s jotting things down as we walk up and down. We go into another room of artworks, paintings hung on panels, and flat works kept in drawers, and more shelving with sculptures along the wall.
“And you might like this,” I tell him as we round the corner from another aisle. There are two small cars and a motorcycle by a wall.
