Authors: Sujata Massey
“Exeter.” He looked at me a bit more warily. “And I know about myself already, thank you very much. What else can you tell me about the ceramic?”
“I think it was used in a home. A wealthy private home, where the people who owned it liked to encourage an illusion of a link to the ruling class.”
“Well, that’s a good inference.”
I turned to see that the speaker was Elizabeth Cameron herself.
“Rei, I’m glad you came back. It sounds as if you have a pretty good base of knowledge already.”
I shrugged off her compliment. “It just doesn’t seem plausible that traveling warriors would have carried breakable ceramics. If you think so, too, why does the label say what it does?”
“Its history is all information this museum’s staff received from the Victoria and Albert.” She paused. “Well, now that you’re here, Rei, I was hoping you might like to look at some things that are usually in storage, that the staff’s brought out for our study. My colleague has gone to lunch, so we’ll be able to make ourselves comfortable there.”
“All right,” I said. “I always welcome the chance for a behind-the-scenes tour at a museum.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Elizabeth said. “I reviewed your master’s thesis on Japanese ceramics. I think you’ll find this new arena of scholarship a natural fit.”
“Rei, you’re turning out to be a jack-of-all-trades,” Michael said. “Kimono, pottery, furniture…”
“Conversant in many things, but fluent in none,” I replied lightly.
“Now, that is unbelievable.” Michael gave me one last speculative look with his icy blue eyes before saying good-bye.
I was glad to have eaten the curry puffs with Senator Snowden, because it turned out that I never ate lunch. I spent the whole afternoon with Elizabeth Cameron, examining a table laden with dozens of fabulous ancient ceramics. As I pondered a 2,000-year-old urn, marveling at the history between my hands, I asked her whether it had been exhibited before.
“Ten years ago,” she said. “We have so many holdings that it is a challenge to give everything a chance at the spotlight. And the truth is that the public prefers colorful items to earthenware.”
“I haven’t seen anything like—what we saw on-screen yesterday,” I finished carefully.
“The ibex ewer? Yes, that was a unique piece. This museum at least doesn’t have anything in the same form. I think the important thing happening today is that you’re getting used to the texture of these ceramics, the color of the clay—look at that distinct ashy whitish interior on the chip. It is very different from the red clay that’s more common.”
“So this particular, lighter clay…it’s from a certain region?” I asked.
“It’s from Babylon. Later on, pottery making took place in other areas, where the clay had a different mineral content.”
“And where the aesthetic was more lavish,” I added longingly. These pieces really weren’t my taste at all.
“Later pieces are usually more highly valued by collectors, though I myself tend to appreciate the simple beginnings.”
So that was one of the differences between someone like myself who sold antiques to people who wanted stunning home decorations—and someone like her who wanted to keep them safely behind glass for all to see, free of charge. As I left the museum late that afternoon, I felt I had mastered some basics, but I needed to keep learning. If I was going to look at Takeo’s vessel with any confidence, I would have to examine many more examples from the period.
I rode the Metro back to Dupont Circle, and as I walked toward Adams-Morgan, I dialed Michael Hendricks at his office.
“You forgot your pen,” I said after he picked up.
“Really? Hang on to it until I see you again, will you?”
“I left it at the security desk in a bag with your name on it.” There was no way I would trust that pen anywhere in my household. It could be a camera or another bug or even a weapon.
“Well, then, thank you very much.” Michael sounded almost amused. “By the way, Elizabeth told me you had a very productive time.”
“It was productive, but not quite enough.”
“What do you mean?”
I explained that I wanted to examine more ceramics from that time period, at other museums. In each place, I’d need hands-on access, and a curator to help me.
He paused after I’d told him what I wanted. Then he said, “Do you have a few museums in mind?”
I told him the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, the Metropolitan in New York, and the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I’d done research at these museums before, and they were all within a few hours of Washington.
“All right,” Michael said when I was done, “I’ll fund your travel to those places. But first, let me contact each museum with a plausible story, and we’ll have some business cards made up for you. But it’s got to be done quickly, since our goal is to have you out to Tokyo by the end of next week.”
“I still don’t know if I can take the job,” I said. “Aside from learning more about ceramics, I have to be sure that Hugh is comfortable with my going.”
“What, you have to ask his permission?” Michael sounded impatient.
“I didn’t say I needed permission. But he’s never taken a job that I didn’t want him to do—”
“What about Edinburgh?” Michael Hendricks said. “He went back there, supposedly to help draft the new Scottish constitution, and he wound up with Lady Fiona.”
“It was a brief engagement, which he terminated,” I finished. “So, it seems like you examined news clippings from the
Tatler
party page. Why didn’t you include them in the slide show for everyone’s amusement?”
“It wasn’t pertinent, just as I think the exact nature of your work for your government isn’t pertinent knowledge for Hugh. It’s enough for him to know that the Smithsonian is sending you to look into buying some Japanese ceramics.”
I hung up, thinking that Michael didn’t know about Hugh’s instinct for sensing trouble. Even though Hugh was sick, he was still sharp.
“What’s the crisis?” Hugh asked when I called him at work—something I very rarely did.
“I wanted to see if you’re feeling better,” I said.
“I’m hanging in,” Hugh said. “But I’m swamped with work. I don’t think I’ll make it home till late tonight. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” I said. “It’s more of a shame for you, trying to recover, and your brother in town for just a few more days—”
“Angus and I already said our good-byes. He’s heading off for Philadelphia today, remember?”
“Oh. I’d forgotten. Well, anyway, when you get home, maybe we can go out for a quick bite. There’s something we need to talk about.”
“Over food? Have you forgotten the state I’m in?” Hugh laughed weakly.
“No, it’s just that…I would rather get out of the apartment to talk to you, that’s all. It doesn’t have to be a restaurant, it could be a coffee bar—”
“That place around the corner closes by six, and I doubt I’ll be through till ten. I’d rather just see you at home.”
“What are you doing for dinner, if you’re staying so late at work?”
“I thought I’d pick up a takeaway soup, if I can find a delicatessen that’s open after six. Downtown is pretty dead at that hour, so it might not be worth the walk.”
“Let me bring you food,” I said. “It’ll save you time.”
I must have worn Hugh down, because he reluctantly agreed. We made plans for my arrival bearing tom yum goong in three hours’ time. In the meantime, I went home and told Chika that we were going out to eat at my favorite Thai restaurant and that afterward, while she packed her suitcase for her next stop at my parents’ home in San Francisco, I would head to Hugh’s office to take him something to eat.
“So, he has to go to work when he’s still sick. It’s a shame,” Chika said gravely.
“That’s right. And I don’t know if he’s going to be sick again, so I think it’s probably better if I’m just there.”
“Of course. I’d like to be home this evening, in case the boys call between sets. Sridhar promised.”
I looked sideways at my cousin. “How was last night on the futon?”
She beamed radiantly. “Very fun. Liberating, really. I never spent so much time with foreign men before.”
“All the men I know are foreigners,” I mused. Hugh was so profoundly Celtic, and Takeo came from centuries of Japanese inbreeding. Come to think of it, the boyfriends I’d chosen in college had all been bilingual and of international ancestry. My roommate used to call the motley parade of beaux that crossed our doorway Rei’s United Nations. I’d never dated anyone all-American like Michael Hendricks.
I shook myself. Why had that thought popped into my head? Probably, it was because I had turned thirty and felt a need to evaluate all the men I met, whether I liked them or not.
“Foreigners,” Chika continued, interrupting my distressed thoughts. “They are more intense. The differences…it’s exciting at first. But it cannot last for eternity, as my mother says.”
“Oh, does she.”
“She’s not watching me that closely right now. She’s working on an
o-miai
for my brother, though.”
“Tsutomu-kun is going to have an arranged marriage?” I felt faint at the thought of her older brother, my beloved cousin Tom, so attractive, lively, and caring. Why did his mother think he needed help finding a partner?
Chika answered my unspoken question. “My brother is so old—thirty-three already. Japanese girls are becoming choosy. They won’t want him in two more years. Now is the time he can still have any hope of selection.”
“All he needs is some time off from work! Time to socialize, meet people on his own,” I said. “How could a matchmaker find a better woman for him than we could?”
“I have no interest in fixing up my brother. But if you do…” She waved an elegant hand studded with heavy rings. “
Onegai-shimasu!”
I request of you
, she’d said in formal Japanese.
In a week’s time, I would have the chance to see her brother and ask him how he felt about arranged marriages. But first, I had to get to Japan—and that meant working things out with Hugh.
“No!” Hugh said.
We were sitting on the carpet in his office with the Thai food spread out like a picnic between us. I had spent the last ten minutes explaining my situation: a onetime contract job for the government to bid for antique Japanese pottery, a special passport back to Japan. An opportunity to jump out of my diplomatic black hole—an opportunity that might never come again.
He’d listened carefully the whole time I’d spoken, not eating a bite. And now, the verdict was negative.
“You mean you don’t think I should go?”
“No, no, no!”
“But why—”
“I mean no, as in no kidding! I can hardly believe it. What brilliant luck.” Hugh’s serious expression had turned into a radiant grin.
I could breathe again. “So you think I should take it? I haven’t told them yet—”
“Of course you should bloody take it! Rei, thank God you came to Washington. Because of all that publicity you gathered in the last few months, someone high up must have twigged that you’re the right person for the job. When you return here with whatever Momoyama vase you buy, I want to throw a party. Do you think, if you ask nicely, they’ll let you have it at the Smithsonian?”
“I doubt it. Hugh, you must be on the way to recovery if you’re thinking of parties again.”
“Yes, watch me eat rice and soup without losing it.” He did so, and when he spoke again, his voice was slightly hoarse from the chili-laden soup. “I’m not ready to open a bottle of champers yet, but if you’ll do the honors of pouring us each a glass of water, we can toast to your legal reentry in Japan, which I’ll be thrilled to witness.”
I went to organize the lead crystal tumblers he kept in a cabinet, along with a bottle of mineral water, and various spirits. I asked, “Does this mean you’ll actually drive me to Dulles Airport in rush hour? You don’t have to, really. I can take the Metro.”
“Better than that. I’ll fly with you, babe. We can hunker down under the blankets and get into the kind of trouble that we used to on all those night flights.”
“Hold on.” I thought quickly. “You—you didn’t even have time to fly anywhere for a three-day weekend for my birthday. How can you get the time off to go with me to Japan? And I’m in a situation where I have to go in a real rush—next week, in fact.”
“Have you forgotten that I’m supposed to visit Tokyo every three or four months for trial preparation?” Hugh raised the glass that I’d handed him in a toasting gesture. “I haven’t been in a while. It would be a cinch to convince the managing partner that it’s high time for me to return and get the Tokyo office in high gear.”
“Hugh, I’m sorry,” I said. “This job for the federal government—you know that it’s my first, and I don’t think I would come off as a professional if I travel with my boyfriend in tow.”
He studied my face for a moment. “Okay. We’ll fly separately and meet up at my company flat. No one shall be the wiser.”
I took a deep drink of water, then put my glass down. “I can’t explain all the details, but believe me, they’ll know. I must go alone.”
“What do you mean, they’ll know?” Hugh sounded impatient. “And who the hell cares, anyhow? Rei, I want to go to Japan with you. You’re the one who made me fall in love with the country, and it’s just not been the same going on business there without you. You know how to read street signs and order theater tickets and all the—” he stopped, as if he’d finally noticed how grave my expression had become.
“I must go alone,” I repeated. “It will only be for a week, two weeks at the most. And if all goes well, I’ll get my visa status changed so I can return again, as much as I like and with you. We’re used to separations, sweetheart. I think we can manage.”
“I wish you’d let me go with you, but if it means that much to you that you go alone…I understand. Yes,” he said, his voice growing stronger, “I’ll keep the home fires burning. I’ll take a break from gadding about and put some extra energy into researching the case, which you know is greatly overdue.”
I looked at him, blinking back the tears that I felt. He was really hurt. I said, “You’re being very tolerant of the situation. Thank you.”
He snorted and said, “Well, the bosses you’ve got sound just the opposite, if they’ve made you this agitated and uptight about the trip. I certainly hope they’re paying you a living wage.”
“They’re sparing no expense, flying me over business class. You’ll have to give me tips, so I can fully take advantage of the situation—”
Hugh frowned. “The government doesn’t usually fly its employees business class.”
“Well, this is a special branch of the government. I mean,” I amended hastily, “because I’m a consultant from the outside, and not a federal employee, I get some perks.”
“Ask them to put you on one of the planes that have the seats that recline back like beds. If there’s fresh-squeezed orange juice, drink it. And don’t forget to bring home the comfort kit.”
The comfort kit. It would probably contain a little black eye mask like the one I’d been given on my birthday, a mask designed to help a person get some sleep—or to block out the truth about what she would have to do.
The next few days passed in a blur of travel and talk. I saw Chika off to visit my parents, and that very afternoon I took the Delta shuttle to New York, where I stayed overnight in the apartment of an old college friend before my big day at the Met.
There, I was able to look at and touch more Mesopotamian pottery, and I received an in-depth tutorial on the hand-shaping of vessels before I boarded the Metroliner to continue my journey. At the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the curator turned out to know all about color, and we had a delightful two hours going through the museum’s exquisite collections. By the time I showed up at the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore the next day, I was thrilled to examine an ibex pitcher that was a little bit younger than one missing from the museum in Iraq. Everywhere, people seemed surprised that they’d never heard of my being at the Sackler, but grudgingly came to accept that I was a new employee preparing to work on a forthcoming exhibition.
My time had gone so well that I was bolstered with enough confidence to spontaneously telephone my grandmother Howard, who lived in Baltimore, to say hello, and tell her I’d just been in town at the Walters. Grandmother Howard—Grand, as she wanted me to call her—was not easily impressed, but she was on the museum board, so I guessed that my visit there would please her. She was surprised but cordial when I called, and commanded me to meet her for lunch within the hour.
It was the first time I’d seen my grandmother in almost a year, I realized as I entered her favorite luncheon place, which was located in a pretty nineteenth-century town house just two blocks south of the museum on Charles Street. Grand looked just the same, with her fluffy white hair and a violet wool bouclé St. John suit. I hadn’t known that we’d be dining together, so I’d worn pants—but very nice pants, part of a fawn-colored Jil Sander suit that my mother had passed on to me.
My sharp-eyed grandmother immediately recognized the pants as my mother’s castoffs. After she had let me kiss her cool, powdered cheek she’d said, “I’d take you shopping for some new clothes, Rei, but the problem is that all the department stores have deserted downtown. Supposedly our new city government is putting on a renaissance, but how can you talk about renaissance when you can’t buy a decent pair of shoes or a skirt in a city?”
I smiled, thinking how like my mother she was at that moment—and also, how like me. I’d been frustrated with the shopping in Washington until a branch of the European retailer H&M had opened downtown. Aside from a Thomas Pink boutique in the Mayflower Hotel, there wasn’t much shopping for Hugh, either.
“Well, downtown Baltimore doesn’t look too bad, aside from the streets being torn up. This restaurant, for example, seems greatly improved,” I said, looking around at the restaurant, which still had its original black-and-white checkerboard floor, but repainted walls and an upgraded menu—a shift to mixed baby green salads with goat cheese from the molded chicken salad and tomato aspic platters that I recalled from childhood.
“I miss the aspic,” my grandmother said. “At least we have some of the same waitresses who’ve been here since the late fifties, which is a comfort. Now, tell me about your browse through the Walters. I hope you caught the Renoir exhibition because it’s only here another week.”
“It was my first time there since they opened the Asian wing, so I spent all my time there,” I said.
“The Asian wing. Yes, I suppose you would like that best.” Grand sounded disappointed in me, as always.
“I’d love to hear about what you’ve been doing at the museum, and your other civic involvements.” I wanted to change a loaded topic.
“Fund-raising and more fund-raising! It’s supposed to be fun to give money away, but the situation’s gotten bad in the last few years. Museums, theaters, all the places devoted to culture are falling by the wayside.” She sighed. “So you said to me on the telephone your visit here was because of your new position at the Smithsonian?”
“Technically I’m a consultant,” I said, “not a regular staffer. If this first assignment goes well, perhaps they’ll ask me to do more.”
“It’s good for a woman to have a flexible kind of job, especially after marriage,” Grand said. “And that wedding of yours, it was supposed to happen a few months ago, wasn’t it? Your mother told me that something came up, but I’m afraid I never understood the real reason.”
“We both got cold feet.”
“So, has Hugh returned to his home in Scotland?” Grand raised the thin, silver shadows that were her eyebrows.
“No. Despite the canceled wedding, we’re still together.”
“Still together? But the engagement’s broken, you said. I’m afraid that I don’t understand.” My grandmother pressed her thin, peach-glossed lips together.
“There’s no more to understand than that. We choose to live together, in Washington, for the time being.” I was trying to remain patient, but I had an urge to flee.
Grand shot me a look over the menu and said, “It’s a question of morals, don’t you think?”
“My morals are fine. In fact, I’m feeling so moral today that I think I’ll start with the morel mushroom soup. What are you having, Grand?”
Later that evening, when I was telling Hugh about my experience over a quick supper of scrambled eggs, he was more charitable toward my grandmother than I’d been.
“Just think of the disappointments in life she’s suffered, Rei. Her only daughter went on to move so far away, and now her grand-daughter’s showed up so terribly briefly—and cheated her of the fun of a wedding where half the gents would be wearing kilts.”
“I haven’t seen you in your kilt for a long time,” I said, looking at him.
“Perhaps I’ll break it out of the mothballs while you’re away and go dancing,” Hugh said, picking up our used plates and putting them in the sink.
“Sure. I’ll get it for you when I’m in the storage closet hunting for my suitcase.”
“A suitcase? Can’t you do with a carry-on if the trip’s just a week?”
“There’s never enough room for shoes and clothes in a carry-on,” I said. Actually, my carry-on would be jammed with all the important things related to the job—a tiny handheld computer capable of wirelessly connecting to the Internet, a miniature digital camera, an entire dossier of papers and pictures related to the ibex vessel, and the itinerary for my stay. I also was carrying reference books and the Meiwashima auction catalog, because I’d be attending the auction to evaluate Japanese antiques for sale as part of my cover.
“I’ll lend you my new carry-on, then. I managed to cram it with three suits, a pair of wingtips, and my trainers on my last trip to Asia. I’m an expert at packing.”
“Yes, you are,” I answered, knowing that I could not let him anywhere near my luggage. Subterfuge was difficult, I decided as I brought over to the sink the last few dishes from the table. “Speaking of travel, have you heard from Angus?”
“Yes. He’s added another week of shows before flying on to Asia,” Hugh said. “All things considered, he’s had a good experience in the states. Thank God he wasn’t arrested that night. I still can’t believe the cops let them off.”
“Justice works oddly in our nation’s capital.” I yawned, thinking that I’d finally found the right place for the bugged bonsai: the fire escape, where it would have good sun and could pick up the sounds of burglars, not us. Michael had agreed to take the bug off Hugh’s phone once I’d left for Japan. I was pleased at how readily he’d agreed to that until I realized there were almost certainly listening privileges attached to the cellular phone he’d given me.
“I’m worn out from my travels. I think I’m going to bed,” I said.
“How tired, exactly? Shall I draw us a bath?” Hugh turned off the sink and put his arms around me. I lay with my head against his chest for a minute, enjoying the feeling of warmth and strength. It was nice to rest quietly for a minute, knowing nobody else was in the apartment. I could have easily just gone to sleep, but I had a sense Hugh had different plans.
Hugh slipped into the bath after me, and made it clear quickly that he intended to turn it into an outpost of a Japanese soapland. But it was easy to be seduced this way: pretty soon we’d tumbled out and had utterly soaked the sheets of the bed. I closed my eyes as his mouth began a familiar southward trek. In the span of a few minutes, all the city-to-city rushing and the long plane flight ahead of me were no longer things I was worrying about.
I twisted away from his mouth and climbed on top, the perfect position to take what I wanted. And Hugh loved it, too—I caught him watching me intently as I moved through the paces of pleasure.
“I’m memorizing you,” he said, his hands tracing my breasts. “I don’t ever want to forget this.”
“Don’t, then,” I whispered just before I came, the pleasure radiating outward like a stone dropped from tremendous heights into a quiet lake. Afterward, I lay with one leg crooked over him, thinking about going to the bathroom to clean up, but feeling too weary and relaxed to move. “That was different.”
“How so?” Hugh stroked my hair.