Shelf-Made Man

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

T he lobby gave Tobias Lykke an instant headache.

The space had obviously been very grand seventy years ago, but the grandeur had been allowed to fade. Someone had more recently made a half-baked effort at a more hip and urban décor, and now Christmas baubles had been added to the mix in what appeared to be a completely random fashion.

The concierge, who might have been the party responsible for some of the decorating disaster, peered at Tobias with lowered brow. “Can I help you?”

“I, uh….” Tobias tried to shrink in on himself in hopes of looking less threatening, but since he was over six feet tall and hefty, he knew it was a lost cause. “I’m here to see Virginia Segreti.”

“You mean the Countess of Contovello.”

“She’s not really— Yes, the Countess. ”

“The Countess does not receive visitors.” Apparently the concierge had been a royal bodyguard in a previous life. Must be quite a comedown to end up as desk staff in a condominium.

“But she asked me to come. She’s my aunt.” Although the latter wasn’t really the concierge’s business—and also wasn’t strictly accurate—Tobias thought it gave him a little extra cred.

After a pause, the concierge picked up a phone handset. “Just a moment.” He poked some buttons, then turned away and murmured into the receiver as if transmitting state secrets.

“Apartment 14C,” he said grudgingly after he’d hung up.

“I know. I’ve been here before.” It had been a long time, however.

The elevator interior was mirrored, which gave Tobias a chance to check his hair and tie. On the very few occasions when his aunt deigned to have a visitor, she insisted they dress up. He supposed he should be grateful that she didn’t make him rent a tux. Anyway, since his suit—the only one he owned—fit okay, his tie was straight, and his hair was mostly behaving itself, he’d probably pass inspection, even though he always felt ridiculous when dressed like this.

Apartment 14C was at the end of the hallway. He stood outside the door for a long moment, took a deep breath, and knocked.

A voice came from inside. “Tobias? Do enter.” Although he knew very well that she had been born and raised in Southern California, her accent tended to waver somewhere between Katharine Hepburn and Queen Elizabeth II.

He stepped into a small foyer with ornate floral wallpaper and a carved wooden table with a marble top. The last time he’d been here—ten years ago—an oval mirror in a gilded frame had hung over the table. Now only a ghostly image remained where the wallpaper was less faded.

“In here, boy!”

The room that she insisted on calling the parlor was mostly dark, and the heavy scent of fresh gardenias didn’t entirely mask the odor of musty old furniture. The heavy curtains were closed against the sunny day, and a single dim lamp—set on a table in the center of the room—barely illuminated the deep burgundy walls. Even though he couldn’t clearly see the many paintings that hung on the walls, he knew from past experience that they all featured a beautiful young woman.

“Well, look at you! Haven’t you become a fine young man.”

She was seated in an armchair in the darkest corner of the room, barely discernible in her long black dress. All he could make out was her curled blonde hair, which had to be a wig.

“Thank you for inviting me, my lady.”

She laughed musically. “Oh, you can call me Aunt Virginia. You know that.”

Technically, she wasn’t his aunt. She’d been his grandmother’s closest childhood friend and had always referred to his mother as her niece. When Tobias came along, he became her godson and honorary nephew. He didn’t mind, especially now that neither of them had any remaining relatives.

Tobias lifted the fancy paper shopping bag clutched in his hand. “I brought you a little something.” It was a box of her favorite teas, which he’d ordered online from a shop in Singapore, and her favorite chocolates, shipped from Italy. His credit card bill had suffered, but he didn’t want to skimp on Aunt Virginia.

“You’re such a good boy. You can place the bag on the table there.” A spectral pale hand gestured. “Now, do you need to use the restroom, darling?”

He blushed. “No, thank you.” When he was five or six, his mother had brought him here on a visit shortly after he’d downed a lunchtime can of Coke. He’d nearly wet his pants, which Aunt Virginia never seemed to forget, even though his thirtieth birthday had come and gone.

“Well, have a seat.” Her hand motioned toward a chair halfway across the room from her.

Hoping he wouldn’t crash into any unseen furniture along the way, Tobias made his way to the wooden chair, tall-backed and with heavy carved arms and a barely cushioned seat. It felt like something that would be used in the early stages of an interrogation by the Inquisition—the next step being the rack. At least he didn’t have to worry whether the sturdy chair would support his bulk.

“Thank you for coming to visit an old lady. I know from your letters that your work keeps you very busy.”

“Ma’am, I always have time for your delightful company.” Even though he didn’t affect a sophisticated accent, whenever he spoke to her—in person or in writing—he found himself sounding as if he’d stepped out of a Victorian novel. He had to make a concerted effort to sound normal.

Her skirts rustled as if she were smoothing them. “I do quite enjoy our correspondence, and I’m impressed by your faithfulness with it. Few young people would bother to write to an old lady at all, let alone several times per year. I believe, in fact, that your generation relies entirely on electronic communication, and that is a shame. Elegant handwriting on fine paper is so much more meaningful. It’s the personal touch, you know. One lingers over a handwritten letter.”

Tobias smiled. “I enjoy getting mail from you too.” That was entirely true. Whenever one of her cream-colored envelopes arrived, his day improved dramatically. He liked running his fingers over the thick paper, carefully opening the flap, and drawing out the hand-tinted card with the embossed eagle. She usually gave him a short anecdote about some famous person she’d once met—now long dead—followed by some general advice. Her handwriting was impeccable. The best thing was knowing that someone had taken the time and effort to reach out to him.

“When I was younger, I used to entertain often. But now, well, you know I’ve become a bit of a recluse and my visitors are rare.”

“I’m honored you invited me.”

“I did so because I have something I would like to give you. Oh, don’t get too excited. My estate will go to charity. The Museum of Modern Art can take whatever they want, and the remainder will go to the Global Women’s Fund.”

“I didn’t— That’s all very far in the future anyway.”

She laughed. “You’re sweet.”

He honestly hadn’t even thought about a potential inheritance from her, and now, even though she must be in her nineties, he found the idea of her death quite distressing. His link to her might be rather tenuous, but she was all he had left.

“Stay here,” she said. “I’ll go fetch it.” There was more skirt rustling before a door creaked open, admitting a sliver of light, and then she was gone.

That left Tobias shifting uncomfortably on the torture chair and trying to get a better view of the room’s contents, now that his eyes had adjusted. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed since he’d last been here, which was the December after he graduated college—an entire decade ago.

He didn’t know whether Aunt Virginia was, in fact, a member of the nobility. She claimed that her deceased fourth and final husband had been an Italian count. Of course, she also claimed that her third husband was a 1950s movie star who she was forbidden by the divorce agreement to name, and that her second husband was a wizard who was eventually and unwillingly dragged to another dimension. So Tobias took her title with a grain of salt, although he never expressed his disbelief aloud.

On the other hand, her first husband was a well-known artist. That he knew to be true because the guy, who’d been a couple of decades her senior when she married at eighteen, had created all those paintings of her. Tobias’s mother had told him that some of them hung in art museums, which had impressed him even when he was a child.

Regardless of whether she was truly a countess, it didn’t hurt to behave as if she were. It made her happy, anyway.

Aunt Virginia returned several minutes later. He caught a glimpse of her when the door opened, and she appeared to be carrying a shoebox. Then she closed the door and returned to her chair.

“You know, Tobias, in your letters you speak a good deal about your work. But what about your personal life? Are you dating someone, perhaps?”

He was glad she couldn’t see him wince. “Not really.” There were hookups now and then, but most of them proved disappointing.

“Surely there must be many eligible young men in Portland. Are they too foolish to see your value?”

“I guess I just haven’t clicked with anyone. But it’s okay. Work keeps me busy, and?— ”

“Yes.” There was a tapping that sounded like her fingers on cardboard. “When I was a young woman, I had so many adventures. You can’t even imagine them all. And in between husbands, I had dozens of lovers. Mostly men, although some lovely women as well. Ah, it was wonderful.”

She paused as if to allow this to sink in. He’d always known her as an old woman who dressed beautifully but kept herself tucked away in her apartment. His mother once told him that if Aunt Virginia went out, she did so at night. It had never occurred to Tobias that she might have been pretty wild during her youth. Although maybe the nude paintings on her walls should have been a clue.

When she continued, she wounded wistful. “I settled down when I married il conte , of course. He was such a fine man. Very kind and intelligent—and ten years my junior. I thought we’d have the rest of our lives together. But alas, he grew ill, and… and our time was cut short. By the time I had mourned enough and was ready to continue my life, I was well past the flower of youth. I was no longer the girl people admired in paintings.”

“But—”

“Hush. Let me finish. I withdrew, Toby. I could not face the world with my wrinkles and gray hair, so I tucked myself away. The older I became, the deeper I burrowed. Until now, when so few days remain to me and I find myself entirely unable to unlock the cage I’ve put myself in.”

Tobias’s throat felt tight. “But you’re such a fascinating person, my lady. I’ve never met anyone as interesting as you. It’s a shame to deny the world your company. I’d be happy to escort you anywhere you wish.”

“Oh, you are a dear boy, but it’s simply no longer possible. Do not fret, however. I have made peace with it. I only mention it because I am afraid you are locking yourself away as well, and you’re far too young and vital for this. Carpe diem, gather ye rosebuds, or as your generation likes to say, YOLO.”

“I, um….” Tobias didn’t know how to respond to this. She was correct that he’d been fairly hermity, and not by choice. Unlike her, though, he was no beauty. He was weird, and pretty boring, and had a really hard time connecting with people. He’d never had many friends as a child, instead being the type of kid who spent recesses sitting against a wall and reading a book, pretending he didn’t mind that nobody wanted to play with him.

“You deserve happiness,” Aunt Virginia said. “If you’re happy alone and at home, that’s perfectly fine. But if you’re not, don’t wait too long to change things, dear. The years slip by faster than you think.” She stood, skirts rustling, and set the box on the lamp table, then returned to her seat.

“Thank you for caring about me,” Tobias said, meaning it. He didn’t tell her that he had no clue how to follow her advice.

“I’m afraid that I must end our visit. You came all this way to see me, and you are such a delight, but I’m ancient and I tire easily.”

He stood quickly. “Of course. My lady, is there anything I can do for you? Errands? Things that need fixing?”

“I’m quite set, my dear boy, but it’s very kind of you to ask. Please take your box before you go.”

By now his eyes had adapted to the dark, and although he still couldn’t see her well, he made it to the table without tripping over anything. He picked up the box and tucked it under one arm.

“Don’t open it until you get home.”

He suppressed a groan. That was over six hundred miles. His curiosity was going to kill him. “Okay.”

“Oh, and one more thing. Do you have plans for Christmas?”

“Would you like to spend it together?” he asked, surprised. It was only a week away, and they hadn’t spent the holidays together since he was a boy.

“I prefer to celebrate alone, thank you. I merely wished to point out that at some points in the year, the border between the possible and the impossible becomes more permeable. The later part of December—with the Solstice and Christmas—is one of those times. My second husband and I used to… well, perhaps those memories are better kept to myself.” She chuckled. “It’s a good time to be daring, Tobias. To try something new.”

Now he was just confused. Maybe being tired was making her confused too. But he thanked her nonetheless, and she thanked him for visiting and for the gift he’d brought, and then he let himself out.

In the elevator on the way down, it felt as if something shifted inside the box, and he nearly opened it. But he’d promised to wait.