Her Knight at the Museum

Chapter Fourteen

Fourteen

The next morning, while Griffin was still asleep on the sofa, Emily closed her bedroom door, opened her laptop, and watched a national news program from the night before. She used her earbuds so Griffin wouldn’t happen to hear it, even if he woke up. He felt things so deeply, and after all he’d been through, she didn’t want to keep reminding him that his coming back to life was causing a lot of trouble.

“It’s being called the most impossible art theft in history,” the news anchor said. He reviewed the reasons why, including the fact that nothing had been captured on any of the security cameras.

Then he interviewed a former FBI agent from the Art Crimes division, asking, “Would there be any way to sell such a large, high-profile item?”

“This was clearly a bespoke job on behalf of a multimillionaire client. For instance, we’ve seen a lot of Chinese billionaires funding the theft, or one might say, the recovery, of Chinese art and artifacts, and many works of art also find their way to Saudi Arabia.”

“But we’re talking about a knight in shining armor,” the anchor pointed out. “An iconic symbol of Western civilization. Is there any chance this was politically motivated?”

Emily’s phone rang, and her mom’s name flashed on the screen. She snapped the laptop shut and, with a sinking feeling, picked up.

“Hi, Mom.”

“It’s about time,” her mom said.

“We’ve just been worried about you,” her father added. Clearly, they’d put her on speaker.

“Sorry, it’s been so crazy—”

“Emily, you need to talk to a lawyer,” her father interjected.

“No,” she said, although the thought had crossed her mind once or twice. “I’m not in any trouble.” Yet , her anxious inner voice added.

“My friend Karen’s new husband is a lawyer,” her mom said. “He just got that alderman acquitted of tax evasion.”

Emily shook her head, trying to follow this. “Is that a good thing?”

“The point is, he’s good,” her dad said. “And he’ll set up a free Zoom with you.”

“I mean…” Ugh . It couldn’t hurt. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Good. We’ll send you his email.”

A new knot of worry tightened in her stomach. “ You guys know I didn’t do anything wrong, right?”

“Honey!” her mother exclaimed. “What a thing to ask!” Her scandalized tone soothed Emily’s nerves.

When she got off the phone, Griffin was emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His gaze landed on her and a big smile transformed his face.

“I am still amazed at this shower. The hot water never ceases, and to feel it run over my skin is more soothing than almost anything I can name.”

She imagined running her palms over his dripping body, though she doubted either of them would find it soothing. The wet ends of his hair clung to his broad shoulders. Was he naturally lacking in modesty, or was he finding opportunities to walk around her apartment half-naked to tempt her? If it was the latter, it was working.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said as he strolled to the end table where she’d folded his clothes. “Are you ready to go shopping?”

She’d decided to take him downtown to Marshall Field’s, now Macy’s. Emily hadn’t visited the stately department store since high school, even though it was only a couple of blocks from her work, but she had fond memories of it, and they were having a sale. Granted, Griffin might’ve been just as impressed by a Target, but having him here was making her realize just how much she loved her hometown. She wanted to show it off.

The night before, she’d exchanged a few texts with Rose about Medieval Legends tryouts and the Cubs game. She’d even sent a selfie of her and Griffin in the bleachers, which Griffin had spent a solid ten minutes admiring. Emily had wound up inviting Rose along on the shopping trip. So after Emily and Griffin drove downtown and parked in a nearby garage, they waited for Rose under the famous ornate clock on the corner of the building.

“It’s made out of cast bronze,” she told Griffin. “When I was a kid, I was so fascinated when my dad told me how the air turned it green.”

“?’Tis impressive,” he said, gazing up at it.

“Let me show you the store windows.” She took his hand and guided him over to one, where mannequins in shorts and tank tops gathered around a purple barbecue grill. “During the holidays, they put up displays of toys, and winter wonderland forests, and all kinds of things…It was one of my favorite parts of Christmas.”

He gazed at her, his eyes filled with affection. “I hope I may see them with you next Christmastide.”

She ducked her head, smiling. How amazing would that be? With Tom, she’d only spent one Christmas in Chicago, and he’d refused to go downtown the night she suggested it, saying it was too cold. She’d love to show Griffin all kinds of Christmas traditions. And before that, Halloween…Would he like pumpkin spice lattes? He did like cinnamon…

Her heart squeezed. Who knew what the future would bring? She might not always be his tour guide to the modern world.

“And who is that man, up there, with the lute?” He pointed upward.

She looked up at the giant, colorful mural. “Oh! That’s a guitar, but it’s like a lute. His name’s Muddy Waters.”

Griffin frowned. “?’Tis a vile thing to call a man.”

“Oh no, I think he might’ve picked it himself? He was a very famous singer in Chicago, before I was born.” Maybe she should take Griffin to a blues bar sometime. She could just imagine him living it up at Rosa’s or Buddy Guy’s.

“Ah.” He gazed up at the man’s face again. “I am sorry I could not hear him sing.”

“Oh, you can! We can listen to him later.”

He gave her an incredulous look, and then understanding dawned in his eyes. “His music is on your phone.”

She grinned at him. “That’s right! Everything’s on my phone.”

Far down the sidewalk, Rose was walking toward them, and Emily waved. Her friend wore a paisley maxi dress, and as she came closer, Emily saw a crystal point pendant hung from her neck. She looked even more witchy than usual.

“Hey there!” Rose said. “How was the clinic yesterday?”

Griffin smiled at Rose. “It was fun.”

“Not the answer I was expecting,” Rose admitted cheerfully.

“He got all his shots,” Emily said, which sounded more like something she’d say about Andy War-Howl. “They didn’t ask for an ID.”

“Thank Goddess. But I actually have one of those for you guys.” Her voice was filled with pride. She dug around in her fringed purse.

“Already? How? That’s so fast!”

“I told him it was a rush order.” Rose held up a card so they could both see it. “Looks pretty good, huh?”

The photo Emily had taken of Griffin, against a blank wall as directed, now had an aqua blue background. Even when Emily squinted, it looked like a perfectly valid Illinois driver’s license, with the faint image of Abraham Lincoln and the state seal in the background.

“I’m impressed,” she marveled. “How did they do that?”

“All I know is they make them in England.”

“I am loath to carry a false document,” Griffin said.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re going to need it.”

Emily added, “She could’ve gotten in trouble, getting that for you.”

Understanding and regret came into his eyes. “Indeed, my lady Rose, I am most grateful. If I can repay you, though it be with my life, I will.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Rose said.

Emily asked, “Seriously, how much do I owe you?”

Rose waved off her concern. “He owed me a favor.”

They entered the store, and Griffin gazed up at the multiple floors lined with stately pillars, topped with a skylight.

Rose said, “Hey, before we shop, there’s something I should tell you. But I want you to stay calm.”

“Too late.”

“Tonight one of the biggest true crime podcasts is doing an episode about the theft. Which is surprising because they usually only do murder.”

Somehow, she’d been expecting something worse. “Can we stop saying theft? There was no theft.” She added to Griffin, “A podcast is like someone speaking to a big crowd. But over phones and computers.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I am sorry to hear of this podcast.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “There’s already been a bunch of them about it.” It was nothing compared to the national news.

“They’ve got three million listeners,” Rose said. “All over the world.”

That was a lot. “But as long as they don’t talk about me, personally—”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Rose’s voice was measured. “This episode is all about you.”

“ What? ” She was loud enough that a couple of passing shoppers looked over in surprise.

“They’re going over you as a suspect. How you haven’t been in Chicago long. How you left your museum job in Los Angeles suddenly.”

Heat rose on the back of her neck. “That’s ridiculous! I left because I followed my ex to Silicon Valley! I’m only guilty of stupidity, not theft.” Even as she said it, she had the nagging sense that she should’ve expected this all along.

“It wasn’t stupidity,” Griffin said. “You trusted him.”

“Yeah, I won’t make that mistake again,” Emily quipped. When he didn’t smile, she added, “Kidding.”

“Did you know that some handmade valentines went missing from the Getty Villa?” Rose asked. “They discovered they were missing about a month after you left. They were surrealist.”

“My whole life is surrealist,” Emily grumbled. “No, I never heard about that. I’ve never even worked in paper conservation! Plus, I’m not an art thief.”

“You don’t have to tell me ,” Rose soothed crossly. “I just thought you should know. I think you should temporarily deactivate your Facebook. And your LinkedIn.”

Emily nodded and took a deep breath. “That’s very smart. I’m never on there, anyway.”

As she pulled up the Facebook app, Rose said, “Do you have any other accounts under other names? TikTok? YouTube? Some kind of artsy OnlyFans?”

“Ha-ha,” Emily said at the last one. “No.” She’d deleted Instagram after discovering she was completely unable to keep herself from using it to stalk Tom and Tori.

She had to reset her passwords, but after a few minutes, she’d deactivated both. “There. Hatches battened down.”

“It won’t be forever,” Rose assured her. “Everyone will move on to the next crime. I mean, people do weird murders every day.”

“Well, that’s looking on the bright side,” she grumbled.

They took an escalator up. “Stairs that move,” Griffin murmured, almost to himself. Rose and Emily exchanged an amused glance. It took Emily’s mind off the supposed art theft and the podcast. The hell with them all, anyway. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Once they stepped off the escalator, Griffin surveyed the display of dress shirts and ties and the tables and racks beyond.

“You probably want more casual clothes than this,” Emily suggested, leading him to another section.

He stopped at shelves of polo shirts. “So many bright colors. I like them.”

Emily eyed the display dubiously. They did come in many hues, including fuchsia, canary yellow, lime green, and one with pastel stripes like an Easter egg. She opened her mouth to suggest that he go with one of the more understated colors. Most of the men she knew gravitated toward black and gray. Then she closed it again. It was spring, after all, and the man knew what he liked. In his time, bright colors meant wealth and gaiety. The good life.

She suggested a size to try and spotted the dressing room. “You can go in there”—she pointed—“and use one of the little closets to try them on.”

Griffin nodded, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. He started grabbing shirts.

“I guess if I hadn’t been clothes shopping for six hundred years, I’d be pretty excited, too,” Emily murmured to Rose.

Then the price tag caught her eye. Yikes. Well, they were a famous brand name. She didn’t see any signs to suggest they were part of the Memorial Day sale.

“Hey, Griffin?” she called after him as he headed toward the dressing room. He stopped and turned around. She took a few steps over to him and said in a lower tone, “Let’s only get a couple of these, okay? They’re really expensive. And we’ll also find cheaper ones.” She’d need to get other things for him, too. For one thing, now that he had a driver’s license, he’d need a wallet.

He nodded, looked down at the shirts thoughtfully, and then returned all of them to the table except for the emerald green and the black ones. “The colors of my coat of arms,” he said to Emily.

“I like it. You know what, while you’re at it, let’s grab you some pairs of jeans, too. Those are on sale.” She guided him to the display and picked out several, then asked him if he minded coming out and showing her.

Once he was out of earshot, Emily said dubiously to Rose, “I guess we’ll see what he looks like as a prep.”

“Lots of people wear polo shirts,” Rose said, leaning against one of the faux Corinthian columns. “Good job holding those I-went-to-art-school attitudes in check.”

“Ha-ha.”

In a lower voice, Rose asked, “So did he get all his tests? Like for STDs?”

“We’ll get the results soon, but as far as STDs go, he’s very low risk. He hadn’t been with anyone for months. Plus with sex, he has…” Limited experience , she’d been about to say, but that wasn’t exactly correct. She whispered, “He’s a virgin.”

“He has an aversion to sex? But—”

“A virgin,” Emily said more loudly.

“Oh!” Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

“I know.”

“But I thought he wanted to…?”

“He does. Very badly.”

Rose nodded. “And what about you?”

Emily sighed. “Same.”

Griffin emerged from the dressing room in a green polo, spotted them, and walked over.

“Okay, you look amazing,” Emily admitted. The combination of his shoulder-length hair and beard with the conservative style was, well, hot. “And if this one fits, the black one will, too.” She scanned the floor and saw a half-off rack of long-sleeved shirts. “Let’s go over there and see if they have anything in blue.”

“Why blue, my heart?”

“It’ll go with your eyes.” As she said this, she was distracted by them. They were a warm blue, like the sky on a sunny day, with a ring of gold around the iris. “Though they look amazing no matter what color you’re wearing.”

He smiled. “I would very much like a blue shirt,” he said in a low voice, “especially if it is pleasing to you, my lady.” The tone of his voice made her feel fluttery all over.

“Oh my Goddess,” Rose muttered, pressing her palm to her heart.

Emily found a chambray shirt for him to try, and then paused. “Did you have clothes with buttons?” That had hung up her research on her presentation, Dating Medieval Sculpture . She knew buttons had been invented in the West in the 1200s, but it had been hard for her to tell how soon they’d become widespread.

He grinned. “Aye, I did.”

She made a mental note of it. God, she’d barely started on the section about men’s shirts and tunics, and the symposium was coming up fast.

As Rose and Emily waited, Rose mused, “So he’s got a driver’s license, and he’s losing his V card.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Rose’s eyes widened in a give-me-a-break look.

“I don’t want to get too involved.”

“It’s a little late for that, since you brought him to life.”

“That’s just it! He thinks he’s into me, but he’s just, like, imprinted on me.”

Rose’s face screwed up in skepticism. “He’s a man, not a baby duck.”

“Exactly! He’s a red-blooded male, and once he meets lots of women, he’s not going to be that into me.”

“Why would you think that?”

Because it was common sense?

“I’m not one of those people with a bunch of charisma or anything.” One of those people with tons of charm who always knew the right thing to say, who instantly made everyone happy to be around them. She’d known a few of those people. Tom’s girlfriend, she’d gathered, was one of them. On his Instagram, he’d talked about her joie de vivre, which had been enough to make her want to vomit. And Griffin was one of those people. Wouldn’t it make sense for him to pair up with another of the same?

“Charisma?” Rose made the face of someone who smelled literal bullshit. “You’re perfect for him. You know all about the Middle Ages, which not many people do! And you’re gorgeous,” she added, exactly as a best friend would. “At the very least, you’d have an amazing new experience, and you’re wasting it.”

She was right. Even if it ended badly, Emily could take heartbreak. She’d survived before, hadn’t she?

Still, her conscience nagged at her. “You don’t think I’d be taking advantage of him?”

“When he’s been crazy about you the whole time?” Rose rolled her eyes. “He can make his own decisions. He’s a big boy.”

“My lady.” Emily looked up to see Griffin walking toward them in the blue button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscled forearms. “What do you think?”

He had a natural confidence in his stride. If he hadn’t been from medieval times, she would’ve called it swagger. And he almost always had a slight smile on his face, as he did now, surveying his surroundings with approval. She hoped he never lost that joy in living, and not just because it tended to rub off on her. Maybe, with a little time, she’d have joie de vivre, too.

Emily beamed at Griffin. “Let’s get it.”