Chapter 7
"Her piece isn't a artifact, so it doesn't fall under the restoration room's duties," I replied.
The deputy director frowned.
"It's just some ceramics. How hard can it be to fix?" he said.
Michael came out from the back of the exhibition hall.
"I had Evelyn bring the pieces over. If you fix it today, let's just put everything behind us," he said.
Evelyn stood behind him, holding a box in her arms.
"Claire, I know you don't like me. But this is for a competition, and it has to be sent in tomorrow. Will you help me, please?" she pleaded.
Some of the staff stopped to watch.
The deputy director lowered his voice. "With everyone watching, don't embarrass yourself."
I looked at Evelyn. "So, are you finally admitting you broke it?"
Tears welled up in her eyes again.
"Claire, the piece's already smashed. Is there really any point in figuring out who did it?" Evelyn asked, her voice trembling.
"There is," I said.
Michael cut in, his tone sharp. "So you just have to make her look bad in front of everyone?"
I stared right at him.
"All of you want me to fix her piece out here for everyone to see. What, you're not worried I'll be the one humiliated?" I shot back.
The deputy director was getting impatient.
"Claire, this is about our collective reputation. If Miss Shaw wins, it'll open doors for the museum," he said.
I took the box and opened it to check out the pieces.
The cracks in the ceramic pot were fresh.
Evelyn kept her eyes glued to my hands.
I closed the box.
"It can't be fixed," I said.
She burst into tears. "You barely even looked at it before saying it can't be fixed."
Michael's face darkened. "You're doing this on purpose."
"The body is way too thin. After firing, the structure's already unstable. After last night's fall, even if I glued it back, the judges would see right through it," I said.
The deputy director frowned.
"Just because you say it won't pass, doesn't mean it won't. Don't let your personal feelings mess with your professional judgment," he said.
Michael shoved the box back at me.
"Fix it," he ordered.
I looked up at him.
"No. I'm not fixing it," I replied.
The whole lobby went quiet.
An elderly man with gray hair stopped by the promotional display.
He glanced at the pieces in the box and said, "The young lady's right. Even if you fix it, it won't be eligible for the competition."
The deputy director immediately put on a smile when he saw the old man.
"Mr. Monroe, you're here," he said.
The old man was Harold Monroe. He ignored the deputy director and turned to me. "Are you from the restoration room?"
"Yes," I replied.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Claire Jennings," I replied.
Harold nodded. "You've got steady hands and a sharp eye."
Evelyn bit her lip. "Mr. Monroe, I've worked so hard on this."
Harold replied, "Just because you spent ages on it doesn't mean it's actually good."
Michael's face darkened.
The deputy director quickly jumped in, "Mr. Monroe, Miss Shaw is one of the young artists we're really highlighting this year."
Harold turned to Evelyn.
"Then you really shouldn't try to pass off a patched-up piece and fool people," he said.
I grabbed my bag.
The deputy director tried to stop me.
Harold cut in first. "Let her go. A restorer isn't your family's maid."
As I walked out of the lobby, I heard Michael behind me, barely holding back his anger. "Mr. Monroe's just old and speaks his mind. Don't take it personally."
Evelyn choked out, crying softly, "I just wanted Claire to help me this one time. Why does she hate me so much?"
I didn't look back.
The museum director texted me that evening.
[Mr. Monroe wanted to know your name. Turns out, he's the one heading up the Northel project.]
I looked at the screen and typed two words.
[Got it.]
The day before I was set to leave, Eleanor showed up at my house with Evelyn in tow.
My dad opened the door, and his face immediately darkened.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Eleanor thrust a bag of fruit into the doorway.
"Look, we're all family here. The kids had a fight, but let's not make things worse," she said.
My mom came out of the kitchen.
"Who are you calling family?" she shot back.
Eleanor looked awkward for a second, but managed to force a smile.
"Where's Claire? I just want to talk to her for a minute," she said.
I came out of my room.