Free An Ever Fixéd Mark by Jessie Olson

“Let me get you some ice.”
    “You should get off that foot, Elizabeth,”
Ben urged as Jackie left for the kitchen. His eyes looked at her…
was it sadness or pity that reflected against their green tint?
    “Yeah,” she locked his gaze for a few
seconds, feeling another urge to leap at him for a kiss as Jackie
returned with a bag of frozen vegetables.
    “We don’t have peas,” she laughed. “But I
think broccoli will work. We forgot to fill the ice trays.”
    “Broccoli will work,” Ben winked and went
down the stairs.
    “Thanks, Ben,” Lizzie said softly and let
Jackie guide her to the sofa.

Chapter Seven
     
    Lizzie looked at the Facebook updates and
switched back to her word document. She had been alternating
screens every five minutes for two weeks now. There was never
anything indicating the presence of Ben on the social networking
site. Nothing to reveal what he was doing since he left her at the
top of her stairs. Nothing in her inbox to ask if she felt better.
It was a foolish habit and just made the day drag even more.
    She started typing a status update about her
boredom but was distracted when the door to the office opened,
ushering in Richard, Dr. Chiang, and their lunch partner. “Lizzie,
you know Gerard Fulton,” Richard approached Lizzie’s desk after
taking Gerard’s coat.
    “You’re the girl from the house,” Gerard
paused to recognize her with his waspy blue eyes. It wasn’t a look
of admiration.
    Lizzie forced her smile. “Yes I work there
on alternate Saturdays,” Lizzie held out her hand kindly.
    “We are lucky to have Lizzie on staff,”
Richard said as his phone rang. “She has told us many interesting
facts about your ancestors.”
    Lizzie smiled at Gerard and Dr. Chiang as
Richard politely excused himself to take his call. She wondered if
the Fulton heir was as charmed by Dr. Chiang as everyone else when
a pager buzzed the surgeon’s coat pocket. Lizzie directed her to
another desk and phone to use, leaving Lizzie alone with Gerard
Fulton. She tried not to linger too long in awkward silence,
knowing how important Gerard’s money was to the hospital. “Have you
visited Brattle Street recently, Mr. Fulton?” she asked
politely.
    “Not since the end of the summer, I’m
afraid,” he actually seemed to perk up at the opportunity to
discuss the house.
    “I was there last Saturday. I always like
the early spring in that house. The light seems to best highlight
some details in March and April – before all the leaves block out
the sun,” Lizzie smiled, but was uncertain when he offered nothing
to fill the next silence. “Do you know who Lotty might be?”
    “Lotty?”
    “A few months back, my manager showed me a
letter that Harriet had written to someone named Lotty,” Lizzie was
inspired by her preoccupation with the Fulton daughter.
    “That was probably Charlotte,” Gerard stated
the fact proudly. “The wife of Horace, John’s son from his first
marriage.”
    “Oh,” Lizzie felt satisfaction for both
intriguing him in conversation and answering a minor mystery. It
was something she could include on the tour. She had it straight
from the mouth of a Fulton.
    “She was English,” Gerard continued. “I
can’t remember the history of her family. Horace started to invest
in a ship building company south of Boston, but he died before
making his own fortune.”
    “I didn’t know that,” Lizzie responded. She
actually didn’t want to know that.
    “I didn’t know there was such a letter,”
Gerard said abruptly.
    “Yes, it is in the museum archives.”
    “Hm,” Gerard muttered. “Harriet married
Lazarus Benedict. He was from the North Shore.”
    “We don’t know very much about Harriet,”
Lizzie commented hopefully.
    “It is a pity about that chair,” Gerard
looked at her.
    “The chair?”
    “In Harriet’s room. It gets far too much
exposure from the sun. It is a fine piece. You must do something
about preserving it.”
    “Yes,” Lizzie smiled