The Beauty of Humanity Movement (48 page)

“Cao Mạnh T
at your service,” he answers loudly in English.

“Good morning,” says Miss Maggie Lý, sounding so American he has trouble picturing her Vietnamese face. “I was just wondering, T
— yesterday, when you said if I ever needed the services of a tour guide? Well, I just might. Any chance you could stop by the hotel today?”

Yes, okay, Miss Maggie’s request is a little bit inconvenient, but you do not say no to a request from the Metropole, as he says to his boss in a subsequent call. And how can he resist the intrigue? This is a chance to figure out just who this lady is and solve the mystery of her relationship to Old Man H
ng.

“The hotel contacts you directly now?” T
s father says, raising his eyebrows, impressed.

T
feels meeting Miss Maggie Lý was somehow fated. That life is about to improve measurably.

The lobby of the Metropole is so quiet by comparison with the street that it takes a few moments for T
s ears to adjust. He stands and inhales the smells of burnt toast and coffee before making his way down a hotel corridor in search of Miss Maggie’s office. He checks
to make sure his fly is pulled up, then knocks three times for luck on the door.

So much art is stacked against the walls of Miss Maggie’s office that she can’t open the door the whole way. T
is forced to squeeze past her as she holds the door open, his thigh brushing against hers, causing him to look down with some embarrassment.

“I had no idea the hotel had so much art,” says T
, finally casting his eyes about the room.

“Everyone was surprised,” Miss Maggie says. “It’s my job to make sense of it all. It’s taken almost a year, but I’m close. Listen, how’s the old man doing? Did you get him home all right?”

“He’s okay,” says T
. “He did at least agree to take this morning off, but I’m sure he’ll be back to selling ph
tomorrow.”

“That’s good news,” Miss Maggie says, sitting down. “Listen, I really appreciate you coming. Here’s what I wanted to talk to you about. More and more hotel guests are being referred to me because they’re interested in contemporary Vietnamese art. I don’t really have the time to take them around the city and show them the various galleries and studios; I’d never get my work done if I did. It would be really useful if I had a guide I could call when these situations arise, and I thought you might be just the man for the job.”

T
cannot imagine the basis upon which she has reached such a conclusion, but then why question something so flattering? And look at that smile, so warm and inviting he can feel it in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps it is the Americanness of her direct gaze, but no girl has ever looked at him in such a way, as if she is in need of something only he can deliver.

“Certainly,” he says, straightening up in his chair, though he’s not certain of anything at all.

“Great,” she says, pulling out a map. “I assume you’re familiar with the Museum of Fine Arts, so I thought we could start by visiting some of the major galleries in the Old Quarter—I haven’t even been to all of them myself yet.”

T
picks up the map. None of the locations she has marked are familiar to him; his expertise is in relation to the more common tourist destinations. Still, he will do his best to serve Miss Maggie Lý and earn the possibility of more flattery in future.