The Museum of Heartbreak by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2021-11-06T14:51:30+00:00

• • •

I still got to Soho twenty minutes early. But maybe that wasn’t so surprising, since I always leave for places early, perpetually worried I’ll end up on one of those trains that gets stuck in a tunnel and I’ll have to crawl my way aboveground with only my wits and the Mole People to guide me.

I decided to kill time at the McNally Jackson bookstore. Walking in and seeing the bright colors of book covers and the light wood floors, my heart slowed into a comfortable rhythm. Home. Books were home.

I started toward the mystery section, hoping to find a copy of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and rounded the corner so quickly, I plowed into Eph’s dad, George, in front of the travel section.

“Oh, Mr. O’Connor!” I said, blushing. “I’m sorry!”

He ran his hand distractedly through his thick black hair. “Penelope, good to see you,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “Is Eph here?”

George had this frown on his face, like he had eaten something he couldn’t decide was rotten or not yet, but was veering toward probably spoiled. Had Eph told his dad about the kiss?

“No,” I said quickly. “Only me, getting ready to go on a date. With a boy. Keats.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to add all that.

“Of course,” he said, exhaling, just as a pert, freckled young woman came up behind him. Her tidy ponytail swayed as she handed him a steaming cup.

“Darjeeling with a little milk, just like you like it.”

“Um, thanks, Annabeth,” he said, blowing absentmindedly on the tea.

“So I bet Mrs. O’Connor is glad you didn’t have to work today after all,” I said, trying to sound helpful.

George sipped his tea and winced. “Actually, I—I mean we—are working . . . taking a little break from exhibit planning.”

“Oh,” I said, wondering why he was taking a break all the way downtown when the museum was all the way uptown.

Annabeth put her hand lightly on George’s elbow.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry—Penelope, this is Annabeth Miller. She’s been helping out at the museum while she finishes up her dissertation. Annabeth, Penelope is a family friend, and one of my son’s favorite people in the world.”

“Hey,” I said, extending my hand. “I bet you know my dad, Dr. Marx?”

She flinched, her smile fading; then, just as quickly, she recovered, shaking my hand enthusiastically. “Totally!” she said. “He’s brilliant.”

“Um, yeah, thanks, I guess?”

We all stood there awkwardly, George focusing intently on his tea, Annabeth still smiling but now humming an anxious tune under her breath.

“So, I have to go,” I said, holding up my wristwatch, even though I still had at least ten minutes to burn.

George seemed relieved. “Good to see you, Penelope.”

“Yeah, you too. And nice to meet you, Annabeth.”

She nodded, her lips pursed in a tight smile, and I walked as quickly out of the store as I could without actually running. Halfway down the sidewalk, curiosity got the better of me, and I backed up and peeked through the window.

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