Dead Secret

clearly going on. Dr. Lymon’s voice was getting progressively higher. Mike was trying to get out of the doorway, but she grabbed his arm.
    Diane walked up to the two of them. “Let’s go into the lab. Now.”
    “This is none of your damn business.” Dr. Lymon’s face was red with anger.
    “You’re making a spectacle in the museum, and that makes it my business. If you don’t want to be escorted out by security, take this to the office.”
    Annette Lymon looked at Diane as if she didn’t understand her. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you,” she said after a moment. “No one seemed to know where you were.”
    Out of the corner of her eye, Diane saw Shelly Cates, the geology collection manager, in her office putting down the phone receiver. She dashed out and came toward them. Diane could tell by her body language that she was angry. Her face was red under her tanned skin, her body rigid.
    Shelly Cates was a fit woman in her early forties. Her hair was up in a tight ponytail. She was the type of person who seemed more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, but in the museum she always wore nice suits usually topped by a lab coat. She had come to the profession late. After being a stay-at-home mom, she got an undergraduate degree in geology and took courses in museum management. Her job meant a lot to her.
    “She has been pitching a fit in front of visitors in the museum,” said Shelly. “I was just about to call you.”
    “Doc,” began Mike. “I’m sorry.”
    “Mike, why don’t you and Shelly go talk in her office. I’m going to speak with Dr. Lymon.”
    Mike hesitated a moment. So did Shelly.
    “Now,” said Diane.
    The two of them turned and went into Shelly’s office. Mike moved slowly and stiffly, favoring one side.
    “Dr. Lymon, let’s go sit down, and you tell me what’s going on.”
    Diane managed to maneuver Annette Lymon so she could shut the door to the geology lab, cutting off the view and the sound of the unfolding drama from the public. She held the office door open for Dr. Lymon, who reluctantly walked through and sat down behind the desk, as if she intended never to get up again.
    “Now what’s this about?” Diane pulled up a chair and sat opposite her.
    “How dare you hire him! I told you he is incompetent, and you gave him my job!”
    “Dr. Lymon, who I hire isn’t your concern. You wrote me several letters telling me of your dissatisfaction and intention to quit. You told me you are severing ties with the museum. I had a position to fill. Mike is qualified. As far as you are concerned, that’s the end of the matter. Why were you looking for me?”
    “To talk to you about giving him my job.”
    “It’s not your job. And you can never come into the museum and make a scene. The visitors in the museum don’t need to be subjected to whatever problem you have with my hiring practices. Your letter said you are resigning the curatorship.” Diane was exasperated, but tried not to show it. She hoped she sounded matter-of-fact, but firm.
    Dr. Lymon had a stubborn set to her face. Her chin was thrust out and her mouth was turned down into a frown. “That’s not the point. You didn’t have to hire him. Not him. He came on to me; did you know that?”
    Diane was starting to get angry. She was glad she had an independent witness to the episode. “No, he did not come on to you. You came on to him. It was inappropriate, and if you weren’t leaving I would fire you. I have no tolerance for that kind of thing here.”
    Angry tears sprang up in her eyes. “He’s lying. He’s just trying to get my job. He’s just trying to make himself look like he’s the wronged party.”
    “Mike never told me about it. You were observed by another curator.”
    Annette Lymon’s eyes grew wide. She was silent for a long moment. The tears spilled down onto her cheeks, leaving black mascara tracks. She grabbed a Kleenex from her purse and wiped her eyes.
    “He rejected me. Do you know what that feels like? Who was he to reject me after all these years? After everything I’ve done for him. I put him through school.”
    “He was your student. He doesn’t owe you sex, Dr. Lymon.”
    “Doesn’t owe me? We were married for sixteen years.”
    “What? Who are you talking about? Mike’s not your ex-husband.”
    Dr. Lymon looked puzzled for a moment. “Not Mike. Ransford. I did everything for that son of a bitch, and he leaves me for that young slut.”
    Diane suddenly felt way out