Part 2
"Welcome To Moulton House"
Those same thoughts were still swirling around Lewis's head all through his classes the next day. Algebra, United States history, Science, and Literature all flicked by in a jumble of names, facts, dates, and figures, until at last he was headed out the door of the Study Hall and across the quadrangle to Moulton House.
Mr. Gilroy had a visitor. Not just any visitor, Lewis could see that plainly when he walked in and saw the two men.
Gilroy stood in profile, nodding his head and gesturing to different areas of the museum as they stood in the main entrance hall. The newcomer had his back to Lewis, but there was something about the charcoal-grey pinstripe suit and the man's broad shoulders and his silvery-grey faded haircut neatly coiffed on top that instinctively drew all attention toward him, even if it was just his back.
"... I am not interested in just a paltry few pieces, or a shelf amid other knickknacks from a similar geographical region or historical era," said the cutting, heavily-accented voice as Lewis crept by them on his way to reach the janitor's closet without disrupting the conversation or being noticed by them. The man continued, "My exhibits deserve a space of their own, because to be in their presence must be an immersive experience, to be witnessed by all who approach them, as much as appreciated for the pieces themselves, Herr Gilroy."
"Well, Mr. Schlimme," Gilroy chuckled in response, polishing his bottle-thick spectacles a third time, as he did when he wanted to hide the fact that he was flustered, "you are most definitely in luck, because one of our rooms has just recently been downsized, so we would be perfectly happy to relocate what pieces remain, and assemble the room to your liking."
Lewis paused at the door of the little hallway leading to his closet, and glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Gilroy gesture at Exhibit Hall G, the one he'd been assigned to clean for this week.
"Can I show you?" Gilroy asked, shuffling toward the double doors.
Mr. Schlimme seemed to hesitate a little, wavering on his feet only slightly. Then with a curt, "You may," he followed after the portly curator.
Lewis felt his pulse racing as he pulled on his janitor's cover-alls and buttoned them up. Why would he be nervous? It wasn't as if he was auditioning for a performance, or tasked with attempting to pacify this new artist, or any of that! If anything, he had the safest position in the world, because if Gilroy decided that Lewis was not a good fit for the job, he could simply notify the Dean of Browning Academy, whereupon the Dean would assign someone to sit down with Lewis and find a position in the small campus that would suit him better.
Lewis paused as he grabbed his trash cart and gave himself a quick shake.
"Not as if there's any particular skill level required when your job is just cleaning floors, windows, and walls!" he muttered under his breath.
He emerged and crossed the foyer, toward the exhibit hall, where the two men were pacing around the space.
Mr. Schlimme spoke with animated tones. "Ah yes! This will do nicely! And there must be plenty of light--my art is best displayed in bright lights and colorful hues. You don't mind a bit of re-painting, do you? Some structural changes as well--more windows and mirrors, to add to the whimsy of it all."
"Windows?" Gilroy blustered. "Umm, well, I can't exactly sign off on anything that would compromise the structure of the building itself, but the paint--oh yes, absolutely, we can accommodate that."
Lewis set his sights on the far corner of the room, intending to just park his cart quietly and begin his daily duties, as much as he could, without disrupting anything. Unfortunately, a single wheel on the cart chose that exact moment to issue a piercing shriek.
Two pairs of eyes fixed on him, one pair magnified several times through thick convex lenses, and the others narrow and icy blue grey, keen and almost predatory as they studied the stricken boy.
"Ah! Just the person I wanted to see!" Gilroy blustered, beckoning to him. "Don't be shy, boy. Come here, there's someone I want to introduce you to. Come, come here!"
Lewis leaned the broom against the trash cart and trudged closer to the men. Now he got a better sense of just how tall Mr. Schlimme was--the man fairly loomed over Lewis and Gilroy both.
Lewis noted the thin black tie and the deep-purple silk vest the man wore with his suit--perhaps his artistry had generated money.
"Mr. Schlimme, I want you to meet one of the student staffers we have on campus. This is Lewis, he just started as a janitor for Moulton House. Lewis, allow me to present Mr. Krasimir Schlimme, a renown German artist who is interested in renting out a display hall for his pieces."
Krasimir Schlimme chuckled and said, "That is Persian-German, you mean--I am proud of both sides of my heritage!" He shook hands with Lewis, who felt the roughness and heft of the man's grip and wondered how an artist could develop the hands of a prizefighter.
"Nice to meet you, sir," he said meekly.
"Tell me," said Schlimme, "are you the sole person in charge of cleaning this entire museum by yourself, or are there others on some sort of rotation?"
"We have other students coming in for mock interviews tomorrow," Mr. Gilroy answered. "Lewis was just the earliest applicant in the door."
Schlimme's eyes narrowed just a little bit. "As far as my exhibits are concerned--I'm afraid I must insist on exclusivity." He tilted his head to examine the curator. Schlimme was so tall he could peer at the top of Gilroy's head.
The curator whipped his glasses off his face and wiped his glasses yet again. "Er, how exclusive? I've already agreed to have no other pieces in the room except yours."
"I want full control of who comes into contact with the pieces as well," Krasimir insisted. "The camera feed must be diverted to my own surveillance system, led by my head of security. Only one janitor must ever be allowed in that room to clean. No rotations!" He snapped the heels of his Italian leather shoes together and looked Lewis up and down in a way that made the lad squirm just a little. "This one will do. Perhaps as interest increases, we'll discuss the implementation of a ticket-purchasing system for my hall, but that doesn't have to be right away."
Gilroy was so flustered he just stood there rubbing his glasses between the folds of his shirt, without even putting them back on his face. "W-w-well, I, ah... That's a lot of things to take care of--"
"Then I suggest you contact whoever you need to assist you in getting it done," Schlimme answered. From an inner pocket of his jacket he pulled out a leather-covered checkbook, with a pen attached. With flourishing script, he filled out the amount and tore it off to show Gilroy. "As of today, I'm taking the space. I'll send the renovators by starting tomorrow, and I expect the space to be cleared."
Gilroy put his glasses back in front of his eyes. They bulged bigger than ever when he saw the amount written on the check. Lewis wondered how much rent on an entire exhibit hall--even in a place as small as Moulton House--would cost, to elicit such a reaction from the dowdy old man.
Gilroy immediately grasped Schlimme's hand, shaking it to seal the deal. "All will be in readiness as soon as your people arrive, I promise!" he said. "Welcome to Moulton House, Mr. Schlimme!"
Gilroy walked Krasimir Schlimme to the door, leaving Lewis to mull over the prospect of having a new assignment. Would Gilroy really go through with it? He just kept pushing the broom back and forth over one area, lost in thought.
"Lewis!" Gilroy's tone held a sense of urgency that made Lewis take notice. He set aside the broom and walked toward the front of the room, where Gilroy was busy trying to carefully shift a piece of artwork off the wall. "Help me clear this up."
Lewis turned to the opposite free-standing wall and began carefully lifting the paintings off their hooks. "So..." he began slowly. "You're going to give him what he wants?"
"Yes!" Gilroy snapped quickly. When he saw the change in Lewis's posture, his voice softened right away. "Honestly, lad, Moulton House could use a breath of fresh life in it. It's been years since we've been contacted by any artist from here to the coast. If nothing else, that check he just haded me would cover the cost of the renovators--plus additional tweaks and updates to the rest of the museum!"
"But what kind of artist is he?" Lewis wondered as he lifted a set of miniature ceremonial masks down from a recess in the free-standing wall. "What was all those things he was saying about needing bright colors and wanting his exhibit to be an immersive experience--he's not the sort of artist that would display something... scandalous, just to get a reaction out of people, would he?"
Gilroy actually stopped stacking frames of priceless paintings and his shoulders sagged even further. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm not sure what sort of art Mr. Schlimme produces--only that it has to do with mixed media, a combination of shadow-boxes, three-dimensional sculptures, and painted backdrops." He paused and set the paintings aside to stretch his back. "Well, we've got our work cut out for us, haven't we, my boy?" he declared to Lewis. "Keep clearing off the shelves and walls--I'm going to go get a crate for us to load all these things into."
Lewis watched the old curator disappear, thinking about how much Mr. Gilroy cared about being able to keep the museum. In the quiet, he wondered how many other things Gilroy would end up capitulating to, without knowing all the facts. Would it come back to bite them?
At the very least, the day's developments made for an exciting story to share at Study Hall that evening.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Quincy hooted as Lewis finished filling them all in about the arrival of the enigmatic Krasimir Schlimme. "Just like that, Mr. Gilroy agreed to clearing out an entire room of Moulton House? I thought the only things on display there were things that the big-city art museums didn't want to display or store!"
"This Kasper Slime guy sounds like an eccentric dude!" Henry remarked, pulling up a search engine on the browser of his laptop. "How do you spell his name again?"
Lewis spelled out "Krasimir Schlimme" for him, and within seconds, the three friends stared at a photo of the European artist, with his harsh features, dusky skin and flinty, pale-colored eyes.
Henry clicked the first link. "Says here he is a mixed-media artist known for his fantasy sculptures, hyper-realistic details in his paintings and sculptures, and bright, fanciful style. Check it out!" He pulled up a photo gallery of Schlimme's more famous pieces.
Lewis studied them closely. The scenes depicted in the vignettes were often mundane settings, but the subject basked in vivid hues--and even in the pictures on a digital screen, Lewis felt the notion growing in the back of his mind that there was something almost uncanny about the level of realism, especially in the areas with the most fine features: the face, in particular, but also the hands and feet.
He wagged his head. "Anyway, we got the exhibit hall cleared out just in time for the end of my shift. I'm just hoping he doesn't find anyone to replace me elsewhere in the museum, so that I won't have to be stuck following orders from Krasimir Schlimme."
Quincy shrugged. "That doesn't sound so bad, actually. At least your job won't change much, you'll still be cleaning."
Lewis rolled his eyes. "Yeah, around creepy statues and paintings with eyes so real, they seem to follow you..." He glanced at one such painting and shuddered. Even through the digital screen, there was an eerie quality to the eyes that he just couldn't place.
"Well, look at the bright side," Henry said as he closed the window and returned to his classwork. "You'll only be doing this for the first semester. Then, if you want to, you can switch jobs to something else."
Lewis sighed. "That day can't come soon enough!" he groaned.
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