Silence settled on us with strange immediacy, but the wistful looks on both men’s faces made it a good moment rather than an awkward one. Eventually, Bennett turned to the Plexiglas container, resting his fingertips on the box’s top edge. “Good memories,” he said.
Nico inched forward in his seat. “You may take it out if you like.”
Bennett’s fingertips rose. “It isn’t locked?”
“Why should it be? This is my home.”
With an expression of pure excitement, Bennett made eye contact with me, practically asking aloud, Can you believe this? He gently gripped the Plexiglas and raised the container. Cesare was at his side immediately, nodding and offering to take the box from him. Almost without seeing the other man, Bennett handed it over, his attention riveted on the sculpture before him.
“Oh,” he breathed, as he lifted the skull and hefted it in both hands. “Heavier than I remember,” he said, then added, “so long ago. So long ago.”
“I never really understood your excitement until today,” Irena said. “Until Mr. Marshfield was here to share in the telling.”
Bennett nodded as he turned the skull from side to side, admiringly. Cesare looked like a man ready to have a heart attack. I think it was all he could do to not put the box aside and cup his hands beneath Bennett’s to catch the treasure in case it dropped.
“Your father and I—” Bennett began with a smirk, then stopped himself mid-sentence. He’d twisted the piece every which way and was now scrutinizing a spot on the skull’s right, just below where the earlobe would fall—if it’d had ears, that is.
When his face clouded, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
Glancing up at the group, he shook it off. “Nothing,” he answered. He was lying, though I couldn’t figure out why. “I was just trying to remember,” he continued with a forced smile, “didn’t we both agree this looked like someone we knew?”
“Did we?” Nico seemed confused.
“Yes, I’m sure of it,” Bennett said. I knew him well enough to know he was making it up as he went along. He lifted one hand from the skull to snap his fingers near his temple. “I can’t come up with the name, and that bothers me.” With an embarrassed glance to the group, he said, “You all caught me frowning at my frustration. I apologize; one of the problems of old age.”
Now I knew he was fibbing. Bennett didn’t try to hide his age, but he wasn’t the type to blame a mistake on a “senior moment,” either. He started to return the skull to its perch, but stopped. “Gracie,” he said, handing it over, “I’d like you to feel the weight of this.”
From the odd tone of his voice and his impatience motioning me forward, I knew there was something definitely amiss. Cesare was required to step back to allow me to stand next to Bennett.
“Are you sure you trust me?” I asked, trying to divine Bennett’s thoughts.
He placed the skull in my hands. “I always trust you,” he said, then added so softly that even Cesare probably couldn’t hear, “Right there. Look.”
He pointed to a spot on the skull that was immediately below where the right ear would have been.
I didn’t see anything unusual where Bennett pointed. He avoided my eyes as he returned the skull to its perch and Cesare replaced the clear box.
“We have many more stories to share with these young ladies at dinner tonight, don’t we, Bennett?” Nico said, apparently oblivious to his friend’s discomposure. “Cesare, will you join us this evening?”