As the meeting wound down, business owners lingered in smaller groups. Penny dragged me toward Adelaide’s office, babbling about vintage fashion and publicity photos. His enthusiasm for the auction sparked through his rapid gestures, pink hair bouncing with each animated step.
“We need her artistic eye for the auction posters. And the lighting setup. And the stage design. And?—”
“Breathe, Penny.” I laughed, letting him drag me along.
Adelaide’s office door stood ajar, warm lamplight spilling into the hallway. The museum curator’s workspace carried its signature mix of aged paper and bergamot. Periodicals from bygone decades blanketed her desk, color-coded tabs jutting from the pages. The scene suited the historical society’s most passionate advocate—and our potential next mayor.
“Councilwoman Fairfax, we need your expertise.” Penny released my arm to spread his hands in a theatrical flourish. “The bachelor auction needs that perfect blend of class and allure.”
“What can I help you with?” Adelaide asked with a patient smile.
“Heaven knows we can’t let him dress everyone in polka dots and stripes.” I dodged Penny’s playful swat.
Adelaide laughed, her eyes sparkling behind the frames of her vintage cat-eye glasses.
“You wound me. My taste is impeccable.” Penny sniffed arrogantly, then pivoted toward Adelaide. “Now, for the stage backdrop?—”
Before we could dive deeper into Penny’s grand vision, a shadow darkened the doorway.
“Richard!” Adelaide’s voice jumped an octave. “What brings you here so late?”
Richard Fairfax Sr. filled the doorway, his silver hair and tailored suit mirror images of his sister’s elegant style. His cold gaze swept over us before fixing on Adelaide.
“Community meeting?” His tone suggested he already knew the answer.
Richard’s presence sucked the warmth from the room. His alpha scent—winter pine and old leather, eerily similar to his sister’s but sharp with something darker—made my omega instincts bristle. From the corner of my eye, I caught Penny clutching his pendent, his earlier enthusiasm draining away as Richard dominated the space.
“Just discussing district preservation.” Adelaide’s voice stayed light, but her hand crept to her emerald brooch. “Your specialty, once upon a time.”
Richard’s lip curled. “Ancient history.”
The silence stretched like pulled taffy, sticky and uncomfortable. Richard’s scent—cold and stale—filled my lungs with each breath, making my omega instincts scream to flee.
“Well.” Adelaide clapped her hands together, the sharp sound shattering the quiet. “Come along, dears. Let me show you both the new exhibit downstairs,” Adelaide said, her voice carrying the same practiced cheerfulness she used with difficult donors.
Penny practically bolted for the door. I followed close behind, the weight of Richard’s cold stare pressing between my shoulder blades with each step. I lingered with Penny while Adelaide and Richard led the way. As we walked, Adelaide prattled on about election pledges and community governance.
I stumbled to a halt when Richard stopped without warning, barely avoiding a collision with his back. I craned my neck around his shoulder to see what had drawn his attention—a photograph—the one showing him and Thomas Wong posing alongside my grandparents.
“Why show this… particular photograph?” His face darkened as he examined the image. He looked at it as if it personally offended him.
“It captures a pivotal moment in the district’s development.” Adelaide’s curator tone slipped into place like armor. “Benji Sterling-Hart’s award, the preservation guidelines, the?—“
“Take it down.”
The command cracked through the air. Adelaide flinched—a minute tell I’d never seen from her before.
“Now, Richard.” Her voice dropped to match his steel. “This is still my museum.”
The siblings locked eyes, decades of unspoken history crackling between them. Richard’s shoulders straightened, mask sliding back into place.
“Of course. Adelaide.” He nodded curtly to his sister. “Good evening.”
We watched him disappear down the marble corridor. Only when his footsteps faded did Adelaide’s rigid posture soften.
“Well.” She removed her glasses, polishing them with trembling fingers. “Perhaps we should call it a night?”
“Adelaide...” I hesitated. “If the auction makes anyone uncomfortable...”
