Old World Murder - Kathleen Ernst [45]
Chloe swiveled back and forth on her barstool. “And did she?”
“Oh, yeah. After working through the standard archival materials and collections, she contacted all the black churches in the city. Conducted a bunch of interviews. She ended up with over a dozen documented examples. Got an A on the paper and curated an exhibit at the county historical society.”
Chloe watched Nika across the room, chatting with Jenny. “That young woman is going to go far.”
“I know.”
“I keep trying to remember if I ever had that much energy.” Chloe sipped her wine, feeling old and tired.
“She is driven.” Joel’s gaze was on Nika too. “There’s a lot she wants to accomplish, and a lot she wants to leave behind.” He turned back to Chloe with a lopsided smile. “I’m so glad you gave her the chance to take on the textile project. She can handle it, and maybe she’ll find a piece or two worthy of further study.”
“Well, I don’t know what she’ll discover among the textiles. But she’s doing important work for the site. We’re lucky it worked out for you to live nearby.”
“My parents invited us to stay with them this summer, but we decided to rent a little place in Eagle. I thought it would be easier for Nika. My hours at the lab are flexible, and I don’t mind the drive.”
“Did you grow up in Milwaukee too?”
“Whitefish Bay.”
Chloe worked hard to keep her eyebrows, which itched to shoot skyward, in neutral position. She didn’t know Milwaukee well, but she’d heard of the exclusive suburb.
“Nika works long hours as it is,” Joel was saying. “If she’s not here, she’s at some library or another. If we had to add a long commute to that, I’d never see her.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad as all that.” Nika had returned in time to hear his last comment. “If I didn’t work evenings I’d be twiddling my thumbs while you fall asleep over an organic chemistry textbook.”
Ah, young love, Chloe thought. Fortunately, pharmacists were needed everywhere. If Nika pursued her museum career as doggedly as she seemed to do everything else, Joel would be moving—often.
“Hey, hi!” Delores Timberlake, the Norwegian lead, stopped beside them. She still wore her period clothing, with the unconscious ease of someone who spent as much time in costume as she did in modern dress. After being introduced to Joel, she looked from Chloe to Nika. “You’re coming out to Norwegian to do training tomorrow, right? Is there anything you want me to do to get ready?”
Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think so, thanks. Byron only gave us an hour. It’ll go by pretty quickly.”
Delores caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a soda, then turned back to Chloe. “Any luck finding that missing Norwegian bowl?”
The image of Mrs. Lundquist’s eyes—first pleading, then sightless—flashed through Chloe’s brain. “No.”
“Are we missing an ethnic piece?” Nika asked. Her cat-like eyes narrowed like a tom’s on scenting a mouse. “What do you know about it?”
Chloe tried not to cringe, wishing the topic hadn’t been raised inside this crowded bar. “Very little, so far. It’s the piece that donor came to talk with me about. The woman who died in that car wreck. I’m taking care of it.” Chloe spotted a group getting up from a table across the room. She put her empty glass on the bar and stood. “Let’s see if we can grab that table.”
Sasso’s was noisy and hazed with cigarette smoke, and by the time they finished their meal—chicken for Joel and Nika, grilled cheese for Chloe—her head ached. Joel took care of the check, and Chloe decided not to be bothered by that. “It was great to meet you, Joel,” she said, as the three of them made their way outside. “Thanks again for your help.”
He flashed that endearing grin. “No problem. Holler if there’s anything else I can do to get the collections