Polar Quest

‘Looks like our time is up,’ Kilkenny announced. ‘See you soon.’

Collins and his wife waved, then the image disintegrated and the screen turned solid blue. Kilkenny switched the monitor off. ‘It’s not every day you chat with someone at the South Pole.’

‘These photographs are amazing,’ Sutton said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this.’

‘Twenty million years of total isolation will do that to an ecosystem,’ Kilkenny said. ‘The Galapagos Islands were never cut off like Lake Vostok.’

Eames looked up from the photos. ‘All this good news calls for a celebration. Everyone up for dinner?’

‘I’m in,’ Kilkenny replied.

‘I’ve got plans,’ Sutton said apologetically, ‘but let me make a quick call. I’m sure I’ve got time for a drink.’

They ended up at Connor O’Neill’s, a Main Street restaurant modeled after the pubs of rural Ireland. In the front corner, a live band filled the place with a rollicking ballad that incited several patrons to holler and clap along with them.

‘Evening, Oz,’ a waitress called out as they entered, her accent authentic Dublin. ‘I see you brought some friends with ya tonight. If you like, there’s an open table by the fire.’

‘Thanks, Hannah.’

‘You come here a lot?’ Kilkenny asked.

‘I’m a regular,’ Eames replied. ‘Didn’t I ever tell you I was Black Irish?’

Kilkenny considered for a moment if Eames was serious. While it was obvious that most of Eames’s lineage was African, Kilkenny had to concede the possibility that, somewhere in the scientist’s ancestry, there might be a Spanish sailor who washed up on the Irish coast after the English navy destroyed the famed Armada. ‘I guess that would make us cousins.’

Eames turned and smiled at him. ‘Glad you finally noticed the family resemblance.’

On the way back, they ordered three pints of amber ale from the bar and settled in at a table by the fireplace.

‘To Lake Vostok,’ Kilkenny offered, his pint of beer raised.

Eames and Sutton seconded the toast and drained an inch from their glasses.

‘May I join you?’ a woman asked.

Kilkenny looked up as a woman approached the table. She looked to be in her early forties, with shoulder-length blond hair and the wardrobe of a working professional. To Kilkenny’s surprise, Sutton rose and kissed the woman on the cheek.

‘Nolan, this is Faye Olson,’ he said proudly.

Kilkenny stood and shook Olson’s hand. ‘A pleasure.’

‘For me as well. Lloyd speaks very highly of you.’

Olson then turned to Eames, who remained seated. ‘Hi, Oz.’

‘Hello, Faye,’ Eames replied politely.

Olson shed her overcoat and sat at the table as Sutton flagged down a waitress for a glass of white wine. ‘So, what are you celebrating?’

‘Just some exciting new things for these two guys to work on,’ Kilkenny replied.

‘I know how good that feels. I just brought in a big historic restoration project for my firm.’

‘You got Gordon Hall?’ Sutton asked.

Olson nodded with a smile.

‘Congratulations,’ Kilkenny said. ‘I live out that way. Given the history surrounding that old place, it deserves to be restored. What are your plans?’

‘Judge Dexter built the main house in the 1840s, so that’s our key date. We’ll make some concessions for mechanical and electrical systems, things that can be hidden in the walls,’ Olson explained, ‘but the rooms and the details will be as authentic as we can make them. Right now, the house is cut up into four apartments, so all that stuff has to go, as well as a couple of houses that were built on the property during the fifties.’

‘What about the acreage?’

Olson smiled. ‘All seventy acres are included in the National Historic designation, so no developer is getting his hands on it. This was, after all, a stop on the Underground Railroad.’

‘So that view will remain unchanged?’

‘It’ll actually be improved. When we’re done, it’ll be a pristine example of a Greek Revival mansion set on a rolling meadow.’

‘Sounds like an interesting project,’ Kilkenny said, picturing in his mind Olson’s architectural vision.

‘It is,’ Olson agreed. ‘Lloyd, do you have the tickets?’

Sutton patted his breast pocket. ‘Right here.’

‘What are you seeing?’ Kilkenny asked.

‘Natalie Merchant is playing at Hill Auditorium tonight – Faye’s a big fan. We’re sitting in the main floor center.’

‘Good seats,’ Kilkenny said. ‘I saw her a few years ago. She puts on a very good show.’

Olson glanced at her watch. ‘I hate to steal Lloyd away from you, but we have dinner reservations next door and the show starts at eight.’

‘Have a good time,’ Kilkenny replied.

‘Thanks,’ Olson said. ‘Good to see you again, Oz.’

‘You, too,’ Eames replied.

As Sutton and Olson departed, the waitress returned and they ordered dinner and another round of beer.

‘I had no idea Lloyd was dating anyone,’ Kilkenny said. ‘I thought he just worked all the time.’

‘I think he learned from me that all work and no play makes Jack a lonely man.’

‘How’d you teach him that?’

Eames took another sip of his beer. ‘Faye is my ex-wife.’