Chapter 3
"Michael, let's just go. Claire's words are just too harsh. I can't take it anymore," she whimpered.
Michael spoke up, making sure everyone could hear him. "Claire, Evelyn's a lot more pure-hearted than you are. She's just passionate about pottery. Stop always assuming the worst about people."
I locked the logbook away in the cabinet.
"Then take her somewhere you think is pure," I said coldly.
Michael's face darkened.
"Do you always have to cut so deep?" he shot back.
"The door's right there," I said coldly.
After they left, Nathan fidgeted with the corner of his apron.
"You didn't back down at all just now," he said.
I looked at the lock on the cabinet.
"If I keep being soft, they'll take everything, even my bones, and put them on display for everyone to see," I said.
At noon, the deputy director called me into his office.
Michael was sitting on the couch, Evelyn sitting close to him, nursing a paper cup in her hands.
The deputy director gave me a smooth, practiced smile.
"Claire, I heard there was a bit of a misunderstanding this morning," he said.
Michael slid a complaint form across the table.
"This isn't just a misunderstanding. She publicly humiliated me and Evelyn in front of everyone, and it's reflecting badly on our collaborators," Michael said.
Evelyn quickly shook her head, waving her hands in protest.
"Michael, I never meant to complain about Claire. She's probably just feeling upset," she said softly.
The deputy director turned to me.
"Claire, just apologize to Miss Shaw. Let's put this behind us," he said.
"What rule did I break, exactly?" I asked.
The deputy director cleared his throat.
"Rules are rigid, but people can be flexible. Mr. Lane and his team brought in a ton of resources for the museum. We're all going to be working together, so let's try to get along," he said.
"So, does that mean outsiders can just walk in and look at the restoration records now?" I asked.
"Don't be so rigid about the rules," Michael said.
His voice turned even colder.
"Claire, I'm giving you a chance to save face. Just take it. Don't embarrass yourself," he added.
I picked up the complaint form and glanced at it.
It accused me of having a terrible attitude and getting in the way of artistic exchange.
Evelyn had signed it herself.
Evelyn bit the rim of her cup, looking like she was just now realizing what had happened.
"Claire, I'm really sorry. I had no idea Michael actually turned it in," Evelyn said softly, sounding genuinely upset.
I set the complaint form back on the table.
"Since you've filed a complaint, let's follow the official process," I said.
The deputy director's smile faltered for a moment.
"Claire, you're about to head out Northel. Don't cause any more drama before you leave," he said.
"I didn't start this. Trouble just barges right into the restoration studio all on its own," I shot back.
Michael stood up.
"You're really going to the Northel?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
He stared at me.
"Are you done making a scene? You're really going to throw away your future out of spite, just because I spent the night with Evelyn?" he shot back.
I laughed.
"You really think you're the center of the universe, don't you?" I shot back.
Evelyn gently tugged at his sleeve.
"Michael, just let it go. Maybe Claire's leaving because she can't stand being around us," she said softly.
The deputy director jumped in. "Claire, before you head out, write up an apology letter. The museum needs to show the partners we're taking care of things."
I looked at the deputy director.
"So what exactly should I write in this apology? That I refused to let outsiders snoop through the artifact restoration logs?" I asked.
The office fell silent.
Michael set his cup down hard on the coffee table.
"Claire, you're so hung up on the rules. It's exhausting," he snapped.
"Oh, you sure didn't look tired last night when you were busy peeling shrimp for her," I shot back.
Evelyn's face fell, clearly rattled.
The deputy director stepped in, trying to break up the tension.
"Alright, let's keep the personal stuff out of this. Claire, I want your apology letter on my desk this afternoon," he said.
I didn't say a word, just turned and walked out of the office.
Right before the door shut, I caught Michael muttering, "She's just been pampered too much. Let her go out there and face those sandstorms. She'll finally learn some humility."
I stopped in my tracks.
Nathan was waiting at the end of the hallway, holding a file folder.