Page 61 of Holding On

“Those are their investiture photos,” says Gretchen, coming up behind me and giving me four more letters to digitize from the archives.

“It’s when they get their robes. It’s a lovely tradition. I hope you get to see one someday.”

Fuck that. I’m going to be in one someday.

I skim over the first four, looking for Audrey.

I freeze and a shiver runs down my spine. The photo of her is framed, and she’s smiling a professional smile. But my heart nearly stops when I see what’s around her neck. There’s no mistaking the glittering emeralds, the sapphire, the pearls . . .

Yes, the picture is nearly hidden behind the water dispenser. Yes, it’s old. And yes, most men don’t take note of women’s jewelry.

But I remember the jeweler’s loop and the swallow.

Barr would.

***

None of this feels right.

In a jovial mood, Barr tells me to wrap up early this afternoon. Gretchen, who has more work for me today, isn’t happy.

It’s four on the dot, and I’ve just turned off the monitor when he announces he’s giving me a spin on his boat. I haven’t had a second to send photos to Carlson.

When I try to refuse, Barr acts hurt and reassures me that he takes all his interns out for a half hour coastal tour. Gretchen nods with a grimace. Clearly, she thinks this is a ludicrous tradition. I finally agree, but in front of Gretchen, I claim a restroom stop on my way out of the building.

His face turns red, but he remains cordial, waiting for me to return. Inside the stall, I furiously try to send photos to Carlson. I have to do them in sets of ten, and twice, it fails.

But he doesn’t seem suspicious at all.

I don’t say much on the ride over and pretend to read texts. I do get one from Carlson, which I immediately delete: Stay alert.

“Who can say no to puffins?” he asks rhetorically as he parks his Mercedes in the harbor parking lot.

“Step here,” Barr says. “But watch the ropes. That storm the other night nearly took her from me. Things are messy.”

I climb onto his miniyacht. It’s so different from the barge—ostentatious, gleaming, and sleek, as opposed to low-slung, dark, and cozy. At this moment, I’d take cozy over anything.

As he steers the boat out from the harbor, he tells me about some of his other interns.

We head out the channel, and he turns the boat south.

The sun is low over the water and rests warm on my chest. Barr puts on a Greek captain’s hat, black with a braid running along the bill.

I fold my arms across my chest and worry he’s going to ask me about the necklace. There’s a sudden revelation that Barr wasn’t taken aback that my mom owned a necklace like the one in his hand. No. He recognized it.

I start to turn around to face him, to say something, anything, to get me off this boat.

All I notice is a gull’s feather stuck in the band of the cap.

That’s all I’ll ever remember of that afternoon.