Free The Bride's Kimono by Sujata Massey Page A

more often, Rei-chan. Please have someone take a photograph, neh? ”
    We ironed out a few more details, and I was glad my aunt had offered to send three instead of two—this way, I would have a really good choice. When I hung up Allison Powell looked me over with a hard eye and said, “Your Japanese is excellent. Jamie had said the advisory committee member who recommended you told her you were fluent, but I know, from experience, that résumés often stretch the truth.”
    “Do you speak Japanese?” I wondered how much she’d understood of my talk with my aunt.
    “Oh, just enough to say hello to the ambassador. Which reminds me. In his entourage, there are a number of people who are less comfortable with English, so it would be lovely if you could speak both languages during your presentation.”
    “I’d be happy to do that.”
    The museum’s conservator, Jamie, turned out to be a strikingly pretty young woman with close-cropped blond hair. She was wearing a square-necked plainblack cashmere sweater with a matching skirt that showed off her flat stomach. What looked like Wolfords stockings covered her long slender legs—I was instantly jealous, because I knew the hosiery alone probably cost fifty dollars.
    As if unaware of my inspection, Jamie looked over the kimono that I’d brought, then read the loan receipt.
    “That bridal kimono you brought—it’s not on the loan receipt,” she said, sounding triumphant.
    “I know that,” I said. “I already explained to Allison that one of the original kimono she wanted couldn’t be released, so I picked another one that worked in beautifully with the talk.”
    “I don’t think John would like it,” Jamie said to Allison.
    Allison made a slight face. “I know what you mean.”
    “Who’s John?” I asked.
    “Our registrar,” Allison said. “He’s a real stickler for details. He’s not here right now—he’s traveling with some ceramics that we’re lending to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.”
    “I don’t see how he’d let us take the bride’s kimono,” Jamie said, looking nervously at Allison. “Since it isn’t listed on the loan receipt, it isn’t insured. Secondly, there already is our own bride’s uchikake hanging in the exhibition.”
    “Is it as old, and artistically significant, as the one that I brought?” I asked, put out that this young woman was ruining my plans.
    “Come see,” Allison said, leading both of us downstairs into a gallery where fifteen kimono from the museum’s own collection were hanging. “I neglected to tell you that we have our own Edo-period uchikake on display, along with the white kimono that goes underneath, the headdress and obi, and other accessories. It’s a complete set—really an important part of the show.”
    I examined the museum’s bridal kimono. It was of heavy cream silk, patterned with wild ginger, clouds, and kanji characters; I couldn’t read the characters, but I guessed they were auspicious. It was a great kimono, and it had the bonus of all the matching pieces.
    “What a lovely kimono,” I said, looking levelly at Jamie, who had made all the trouble for me. “I understand your position, but it puts me in a rather awkward situation. If I’m forced to take this uchikake back to Japan with me in ten days, we’ll have to pay for customs brokers all over again, not to mention that the Morioka people would be upset about the rejection of one of their treasures.”
    “Since John isn’t here to give us advice, you’d better take custody of it, Rei. You find a safe place for the uchikake for the duration of the exhibition, and then we’ll put it back in the box with the others in three months’ time and courier it back to the Morioka.”
    I held up a cautionary hand. “The only place that I’d feel safe about is this museum. Freeze it if you must. It really should stay here.”
    “The problem is, to put something in storage, it’s got to have a number corresponding with our own