Meetings
Sunday I went to work for my half day, then spent some time in my sewing room finishing the cushions. Deri had had a really good time and had elected to ignore my shopping trip, which was fine with me. I worked all day on Monday, so I missed the designer coming. Not sorry about that. Deri was a little disappointed; the designer had taken the dimensions of the room, talked to Deri about what she wanted, Deri had shown her the pictures but had been told that while those ideas wouldn't work in her room, the designer promised that she'd love the end result. Deri had to be happy with that. The contestants came into the store, and I was put on the cutting table. Twitchy Guy apologized when I was cutting his fabric. "I hope you didn't get into trouble," he said, and a person I'd been told was a producer hustled over to listen to our conversation. I kept my eyes from rolling.
"No, my manager just said that we aren't allowed to do anything for contestants but cut your fabric and ring you up. We'd have helped anybody who asked. If people are too dumb to ask for help when they need it, it's no skin off my nose," I said, and Twitchy laughed. Even the producer grinned for a second before wiping it off his face. "And in the interest of fairness, maybe you didn't know that our clerks have observed some contestants hiding fabric. I don't mean like the time I saw one woman change her mind and dump the bolt that she had on the floor apparently because of the time constraint, I mean taking a bolt and putting it behind others or putting a sheer in with the felts, for example, where nobody would think to look for it," I said to the producer.
The producer frowned and Twitchy looked enlightened. "Can you prove this?" the producer said as I folded the cut.
"Nope, I haven't seen it myself. But other clerks have and Dave and Donna have been dispatched today to keep an eye out, retrieve anything that's been diverted." The producer rubbed his face and charged off as I handed the cut fabric to my customer, who headed over to the register. I turned to the next customer with a smile. Oh, gods, those were ugly color combinations. Well, the guy was a designer, maybe he could work miracles. I cut for a few more contestants, then my smile for the next in line turned into a grin.
Uncle Steve put three bolts of vibrantly colored flannel, new this week, on the cutting table. "Lys, honey, what's all this?" he asked, gesturing to the cameras. "I'd like three yards of each, please. Buck's worn the nap off his favorite flannel shirts but is being stubborn about replacing them." I flipped fabric off the first bolt, explaining the show, and Uncle Steve nodded, enlightened. "I'd heard about it, but I didn't realize they were filming." We chatted about general things as he was recognized and people started staring at him. He hadn't been Captain America since shortly after I was born, but sometimes people still recognized him for that. In a fabric store, though, Steve Rogers, renowned international fashion designer, was huge, like a rock star. After I folded the last length of flannel (Uncle Bucky was going to love them) and pushed them across the table to Uncle Steve, some of the contestants literally couldn't contain themselves and charged over for autographs. He was polite as ever, scrawling his signature on pages from a notepad I silently slid over to him. I motioned the next customer in line over to the side of the table and continued cutting. The other clerks weren't bothered by him at all; he came in sometimes to get fabric for work that didn't go out under his label, like the flannel for Uncle Bucky, cloth for his son Chris--Chris had the same general shape as Uncle Steve, really broad through the shoulders and a narrow waist, making it hard for him to get tailored shirts and jackets that fit. He dealt directly with fabric manufacturers to supply his atelier, but he'd worked here once and made a point of patronizing the store for his other needs. Once everybody left him alone, he'd go find the manager, who had been here for a quarter century and hired him, and say hi. That was one of his most admirable qualities, that he was still a genuinely nice guy even though he was famous on a couple of fronts.
After Uncle Steve and the show people left, we were still busy but it was a lot calmer and work resumed as usual. I told the story at dinner, and my parents were amused. Deri was interested in the cameras and the filming of the show. I wasn't, really, and it frustrated her that I didn't know more details. "I'd ask. It would be fun to be on TV."
I shuddered. "Some of those people are jerks and back-stabbers. I don't think it would be fun at all."
"Not for sewing clothes, just to be on TV, be famous," Deri said. Honestly, I don't understand her sometimes. Then she remembered that she had news of her own and told us about working with the designer. In detail. She shot a few smug looks at me, which I didn't understand. I liked my room.
The rest of the week buzzed along and I was conscious of the summer nearly being over. The pharaoh arrived for his anticipated visit, and because I was interested, Mom had arranged for me to be one of the crowd at the museum when he came by. There was a careful selection of museum officials, including Tony and other directors, city and state officials like the governor, mayor and his PR specialist Aunt Nessa, Uncle Bucky's wife, and some regular citizens like me. The pharaoh wore a long pleated linen skirt, sandals, a wide gold pectoral collar, bracelets, and the well-known blue and white striped nemes head covering held in place with a wide golden band featuring a jeweled cobra called a uraeus. He had a fairly intense god-touch to him, but interestingly not as strong as Mom's. Creepily, the haze that signified the god-touch was concentrated in his eyes, making them kind of glowy. If his gods were responsible for that, then yeah, they were a whole different kettle of fish than the ones I was used to. There were greetings from the mayor and governor, Uncle Tony made some remarks on behalf of the museum. The citizens waited as the pharaoh toured the Egyptian gallery with the officials, and we watched as he was presented with the selection of artifacts from the museum collection. I knew he recognized the god-touched bits by the way his eyes widened, just slightly, as he saw them. So did he see my mom the same way I did? I'd love to ask him, but he seemed, like the Hawkpeople I knew, not really the type to answer questions, even if I was allowed in shouting distance. And did I really want his attention? It was kind of funny to me that the haughty Hawkbrother, in his current guise as Dr Carter Hall, internationally known Egyptologist, seemed kind of cowed by the pharaoh; I'd never seen him deferential. After this presentation, the pharaoh made a little speech, translated by his interpreter, who was wearing a linen dress that was less fine than the linen her boss wore, with a few strands of beads and an amulet around her neck. As she spoke of his pleasure at the reception he was given and the gratitude he felt for the return of these objects, he scanned the crowd with those uncanny eyes, and toward the end of her speech his eyes settled on me. Eep.
But he didn't point me out or denounce me as some kind of freak, which was something I greatly appreciated since there were still a lot of people who were touchy about those who weren't 100% vanilla human. The little ceremony concluded, we clapped and the crowd began to disperse, me scooting along in the middle. I was nearly at the door when my communicator pinged with Mom's request to return. I fixed a pleasant look on my face and went back; a security guard took me to the staff area where the museum personnel were working on the upcoming Egyptian exhibit on the other side of the room. The politicians had taken the opportunity to speak with the press about the pharaoh's visit, and the mayor was already heading for the door. The governor had bigger political aspirations and he was pontificating on the importance of the visit and his pleasure that the pharaoh was seeing one of the jewels of the city before speaking at the UN. Blah blah. Dr Hall, Uncle Tony, and Mom were with the pharaoh and his people. "Pharaoh Ramesses-Ra, this is my daughter, Lysippe Wayne," Mom said, putting an arm around my shoulders. Those weird eyes studied me, flicking to my mother and back.
"Superficially there is not much resemblance, Dr Prince-Wayne," he said, his light tenor heavily accented. I was surprised, given his use of an interpreter, that he spoke English, and fluently. Maybe it was a gift from his gods, and if so, why didn't I get something like that? Greek had been a struggle, even when you're young and it's supposed to be easy to pick up. "In outward appearance, not much, but in the gifts of the gods, it is easy to see. You were blessed by many," he said to my mother. "You by two," he said to me. I frowned.
"I'm pretty sure I only have the one gift," I said, and bit my lip, unsure whether this was too flip. But to my surprise, he smiled.
"Two. That one has six." He studied me. "What is your blessing?" I looked at Mom, who nodded.
"I can see people who are god-touched," I said.
"How do you perceive them?" he asked, and I explained the haze and how he was different.
"Very interesting," he said. "I sense different types of energies, but I do not see them physically. My travels to other lands show me the influence of many other gods, but I have never met another who can also perceive their traces of power. Be cautious, young woman. Not all gods want their influence to be known. And stay away from Egypt; my gods are jealous of such abilities." He turned slightly to one of his people, who opened a surprisingly modern briefcase. "From one to another," he said, turning back to me, extending his hand. I took a necklace composed of three strands of turquoise, lapis, and carnelian beads, held together at intervals with gold spacers. At the center, a plaque with a flowering plant was depicted in enamels. Crucially, it was just a piece of jewelry. "It is a depiction of the papyrus plant in the traditional style. You know it?"
"It's a very useful plant, I understand," I said. "It makes papyrus, of course, but the reeds also make boats, baskets, rope, and can be eaten." We'd had ancient history in eight grade, and we'd learned a lot about Egypt. The pharaoh nodded.
"It is also a symbol of the delta of Lower Egypt, life, and eternity. The papyrus fields are dark and mysterious in nature; several of our important stories of the gods are set in them. They represent light over darkness, the imposition of order on chaos. The balance between the two is of critical importance and my primary duty to my country, its people and its gods."
"Thank you," I said, not knowing what else to say.
"I would tell you to go with the gods, but under the circumstances..." his voice trailed off and he grinned at me. At that moment I remembered that he was only about a dozen years older than me. He carried with him the weight of ages. He turned away, accompanied by Dr Hall, his people trailing after, and soon it was just me with Mom and Uncle Tony.
"Two?" Uncle Tony said alertly, and I shrugged.
"I only use the one," I said. "And at that, his way of perceiving things is a lot better than mine."
"You've been given what the gods want you to have," Mom said sternly. "And the expression which is most useful. To them." And that's the crux of the thing. The gods tend not to be too kind to mortals.
"It's not really useful."
"It is a gift from Athena, the wisest of the goddesses, even the gods," Mom said. "She will have her reasons. But I wonder what the other gift might be."
"Well, I'm not much of a gardener, obviously Deri scooped up the blessing of Aphrodite, I'm not particularly fast, animals don't like me excessively," I said, and shrugged.
"The gods are not usually so straightforward," Mom said. "Obviously this is a more subtle gift."
"You got to meet the pharaoh because of it," Uncle Tony said to me, taking the necklace and putting it around my throat. "And this is quite a souvenir. Better than any I got when I was there."
"And what did you bring home, Uncle Tony?" I asked, and he grinned back at me.
"A lot of sand in my armor and a burning desire to keep my distance," he said promptly, and Mom walked us out, both of them waiting with me at the door until my pod presented itself. "Still like it?"
"More every day," I said, and hugged him and Mom before going outside.
Back home, the decorator was at work. Deri and the parents had approved the design and work was going forward. I wasn't sure what all was going in and wasn't too interested, to be frank. I had time to get changed, putting away the new necklace after examining it more closely--the official seal of the pharaoh was on the back of the papyrus plaque along with his cartouche. Grandpa Henry was due to alter my window seat, and I went down to meet him. We took the elevator back up because he had a lot more gear than I'd anticipated, all in carry-alls, convenient.
Working together, we unscrewed the seat and I held it still as he deftly cut a three-inch slice off the back face. Then we flipped the pieces and he marked out where the hinges were to be, carefully removing a small amount of wood with a chisel in order to let the hinges be flush with the surface of the wood. I screwed in one hinge and he got the other. But before he put the seat back on, he pulled one of the carry-alls over. "I've got some cedar planks in here," he said. "I thought we could line the inside, making it like a cedar chest."
"I love the smell," I said. "Thank you!" The pieces had been precut based on the initial measurements he'd made when making the window seat, so it was a matter of using little nails to attach each board. Then we placed the seat back on and screwed in the back board. I lifted the front and the lovely cedar scent wafted out. We exchanged a smile and I placed the cushion back on. I'd fill the old screwholes later. Then Deri burst in, hugged Grandpa, and pulled him over to her room, chatting about the changes.
"I thought Lys was going to help you," I could hear him say, puzzled.
"Mom and Dad got me a decorator," she bragged, and I put tools back into the carry-alls and tidied up the sawdust. I took bags down to his van, then joined him in Deri's room. The workers had smoothed the walls, filled holes, primed a few places. She was boxing up her things so that the workers could do the painting and everything else over the next couple days. "I'll be staying in one of the guest rooms," she said with pleasure.
"I was looking forward to working with you too, Deri," Grandpa said. "It's too bad you don't need me."
Grandpa for the burn, however slight.
Deri looked taken aback and didn't know what to say. For that matter, I didn't either.
"I took your stuff down and put it in your van, Grandpa," I said after a moment. "Thanks for your help."
"Glad to help, Lys," he said. "Deri, let me know when your room is done and I'll bring Rose over to see it too." Deri brightened and came downstairs with us.