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At the museum on Friday morning, Vanessa’s chest tightened as she crossed the wide wooden floorboards in the narrow hallway that lead to her office.
Sure, the big filming event she’d dreaded had finally wrapped, but then this whole double booking of the event space had come up yesterday.
She had to figure out what to do about a replacement location for the gala. She flipped through the desk calendar—only thirteen days til the event.
She swallowed hard. There was so much riding on the gala... She made herself take a deep breath, then two. There had to be something...somewhere. Right? She straightened the collar of her mauve polka dot blouse. There had to be.
Her mind flitted back to the letter again. Could the document somehow prove 355’s identity? Her heart jumped. If she was the one to finally discover this long-debated piece of historical intrigue, it would mean so much for the museum, and for her own career.
Vanessa frowned. Who’d sent it to her? And why? Besides that, who was 355 writing to?
Vanessa had left the letter at home but made sure it’d been safely stored. The exhibit wasn’t about Agent 355 specifically, and somehow, she didn’t want to show the letter to anyone else yet.
It felt too special, private, somehow. Even though she was probably committing several cardinal sins by not bringing it directly to the museum here, she couldn’t quite bring herself to move it. She would. Soon.
“Good morning, Vanessa,” Kali said as Vanessa gave her a half-wave when she passed the break room; the small space had been part of the larder, original to the house’s 18th century construction.
“I hope everything went okay yesterday with that conference call,” Vanessa said as she paused to take a breath before she stepped over the threshold—she wasn’t a big fan of tight places. But usually, being in the break room didn’t bother her. She grabbed her favorite aqua-and-white mug from the cupboard and glanced at her boss.
“We’ll see what my husband’s specialist says this afternoon.” Kali’s lips compressed and she stirred creamer and two sugars into her usually black coffee. Vanessa noticed the dark circles under the other woman’s eyes, and put a hand on her arm for a brief moment. “Hang in there. If you need anything, just let me know.”
Kali cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. Gave Vanessa a thin smile. “While I appreciate your offering, that won’t be necessary. But thank you.”
That was as enthusiastic a response as she was going to get, Vanessa thought to herself as she selected a drink pod, fit it into the machine, put her mug underneath and then pressed brew. But that’s just how her boss was, with all her stress, right now. Vanessa loved her job too much to let that get in her way.
“You’re welcome. So, uh, I know the gala deadline’s looming. Which is why, first thing this morning, I’m going to get right on calling more venues about a replacement location.”
“We haven’t had any luck so far.” Kali clenched her fingers even more tightly around her mug. “I don’t know what we’ll do if we can’t find a new venue.” She rubbed her temples. “The date is coming up fast. Remember, it needs to be somewhere historic.”
“It’s too bad they only let us know yesterday that our first choice here in the city got double-booked by accident,” Vanessa murmured, more to herself than Kali.
“That’s life,” Kali said in a clipped tone. “Keep me posted. I’ll be in my office.” Without another comment, she left the room.
Vanessa’s stomach knotted. If they didn’t find something, and fast, they were all going to be sunk. She took a fortifying sip of her mocha and hurried to her desk. After she checked her email—no responses from the queries she’d sent—she checked her phone and noticed a message from Melissa.
Just saw your video. It’s on all the socials. You did a great job. Oh, and don’t forget our Passport to Romance & Relics watch party tonight. We can both catch the season finale now, PLUS a cast interview—what’s better than that? ;) I’ll bring the popcorn.
Melissa was such a great friend. Always had her back. They’d met several years ago, after they’d both shown up for a viewing of the same apartment.
Sounds great. Vanessa sent a smile emoticon too then turned to her computer screen again.
A few hours later, after Vanessa called what seemed like every venue in a twenty-mile radius of the city, she sighed and flopped back in her chair.
Between bar mitzvahs and birthdays and baby baptisms, nothing was available.
She massaged her stiff neck muscles—a headache was beginning to build. She needed to think. She got up and headed over to grab a coffee refill. They needed some place historic. Something related to the Revolution.
If they were talking about female spies, and the American Revolution, why not think a bit farther afield? After all, the Revolution took place all across the 13 colonies...
She stepped into the break room and selected another coffee pod. Too bad this museum was too small to host the event. Place was pretty historic.
She glanced at the exposed stone wall by the kitchen sink. A few of the stones had come loose when they’d redone the counters in here.
Hmm. Where else might work? The coffee maker beeped and she poured herself a cup. What about that historic site in Morristown, New Jersey? George Washington was headquartered there for part of the Revolution. Might be the perfect spot, with that Colonial-style house, other preserved buildings, and extensive grounds. Granted, it was a bit farther from New York but the gala attendees were coming from all over the country anyway.
She rushed back to her computer to look up the contact information.
But just as she sat down, Kali leaned around the doorway.
Vanessa’s eyes widened and her smile faded as she looked at her boss’s face. “Are you okay?”
Kali’s complexion had drained of color, her lips were set and her usually neat hairstyle was in disarray. “Vanessa, I’ve been called away. I’m not sure how things will develop or how long I’ll be gone. At least a few weeks. It seems his condition is worsening at a much faster rate than the doctors anticipated. So I’m going to have to test your mettle, because I need to take a leave of absence.”
Vanessa tried to stifle a gasp.
Kali nodded. “You’re in charge now—head curator. Guess you just got a promotion.” She laughed tiredly. “But with such a small speciality museum here, and only the two of us running this place, I have every confidence in your abilities.” Her phone buzzed and she jumped. “I need to go. Keep me informed about the gala and your exhibit plans.”
Vanessa nodded mutely as she watched her boss leave. Now what?
*
FRIDAY AFTERNOON, JAKE propped his feet up on the rattan footstool on his apartment’s back patio and cracked open a pineapple-mint iced tea.
The sound of the surf whooshed in his ears as he leaned back against the blue and white striped cotton canvas of his deck chair.
His eyes drifted shut and his mind wandered. So good to be home. It’d been too long since he’d been in one place for more than a few days. Bonus points for not having to live out of a suitcase at the moment, either.
A chance to sleep in his own bed was a nice change of pace from mud-and-brick huts with spiders as big as dinner plates that watched every movement in the purple twilight.
People asked him how he did it: survive all those conditions in far-flung locations. He chuckled to himself. The trick was to pretend that what you’d gotten, and where you were, was exactly what you had wanted in the first place.
His smile faded. Laura used to say his optimistic, fun-loving attitude was a mask for his fear of deeper intimacy. He shifted in his chair. He didn’t see it like that. People liked to smile, laugh. Besides, he was capable of being serious.
His phone vibrated on the teak coffee table beside his canvas deck chair. He opened one eye.
It buzzed again.
He opened both eyes and glanced at it. One of his cameramen, Bryce. Jake better respond. He read Bryce’s text. Great idea about the lost flag. I’m totally on board for that. Was just tossing some research leads back and forth with one of our writers, and she came across this video.
Bryce had attached a link. Jake scrolled to it. Hmm. Looked like it was from an organization called the Women of the American Revolution Museum, based in New York City. He cocked his head. He’d never heard of it, and he’d spent a fair amount of time in New York at one point.
He tapped the screen and the video played.
After the short clip ended, he couldn’t help but spend a moment longer than necessary looking at the woman who’d delivered the museum fundraising message.
Big green eyes. Long, glossy dark-brown hair. She looked like an actress. She’d delivered her lines well, too. And something about the intelligence in her eyes tugged at him...
He rubbed the back of his neck. It’d been a year since Laura had broken things off with him. He hadn’t met anyone since who’d caught his interest. But now...? His pulse thudded. Was he actually ready to start dating again?
His lips curved up in a smile as he looked at the women’s image a moment more—he’d certainly noticed her. She seemed to love history as much as he did. Knew her facts, too. And gorgeous, to boot... Maybe this was an indication he was ready, after all.
He brought up Bryce’s text and typed a reply. Interesting video, man. Thanks for sending it along. I can see how she might have some insight into 355. Could be an interesting layer to add to our episode. Twenty-nine days and counting. He added the crossed fingers emoticon and then hit send.
He tried not to let worry gnaw at his gut as he put his phone back down and settled again into his deck chair. What was he going to do if the show tanked and really did get taken off the air?
He had to admit, the sense of job security it had given him had been a huge relief after such a long time doing bit parts and shampoo commercials. He’d gotten a lucky break, as they said in the business.
But after he’d landed that host position on the Travel Channel, the show’s funding got cut and he’d been out of a job two seasons in. Was the past repeating itself here?
He took another sip of his drink and watched the pinks and purples of sunset fade into the water.
This new episode had to be phenomenal.
Would they be able to find enough information, get enough solid leads, interview enough experts to tie things all together in an exciting and interesting way for viewers?
He took another sip of his drink. It really had to be compelling. He wasn’t sure that just a flag would be captivating enough...
The question was, what would be?
*
FRIDAY EVENING, VANESSA sighed in relief as she stepped into her apartment and slipped out of her black patent leather ballet flats.
She rubbed her feet for a moment, glad to be able to stop rushing around—at least for a little while. Doing all that research on the venue had really gobbled up a lot of energy and time today.
But she wouldn’t be getting much sleep this weekend. She had to put in a good chunk of hours over Saturday and Sunday, what with the gala stuff and Kali’s additional workload now shifted to her. For tonight, though, she could let herself relax a bit.
She flicked on the lights and padded barefoot across the faded pink hall throw rug and into her kitchen.
The black and white linoleum was cool under her feet. She rummaged around in her apartment-sized fridge and surveyed the options. Half a case of lemon-lime soda. Tuna casserole leftovers. And that box of Pad Thai she’d picked up for lunch and already eaten half of.
She opted for the tuna casserole and also took out a block of cheese. She grated it on top of the tuna before she popped it into the microwave. Friday night and she was here in her apartment. Alone yet again. What had happened to her love life?
She hadn’t really dated since Eric. But all at once, she found herself remembering the good times with him.
Those first few months where everything seemed golden, untouchable. That sparkle in his eyes every time he’d looked at her. How she’d cuddled into the warmth of his arm around her shoulder as they’d sat on her couch over there and watched the pilot episode of Passport to Romance & Relics.
Her eyes strayed to her sofa.
He’d said the show hadn’t really been his thing, and she’d pretended to be fine with that. But she’d secretly been disappointed.
She’d guiltily really wished he’d been a bit more like... Jake Ford. Her lips quirked up at the thought. Not that she had any idea what the TV host was like in real life, of course, she reminded herself.
But Eric hadn’t been someone with an adventurous spirit. She wished he’d been able to display a bit more courage, had a bit more willingness to step outside his comfort zone, believe in his convictions passionately. Instead, he’d been a homebody content to color inside the lines.
She sighed as the microwave beeped and she rummaged for a fork in the silverware drawer. She sat down at the kitchen table and began to eat.
Maybe she’d just been dating the wrong type of man?
She winced as she took another forkful of tuna. Then again, the breakup wasn’t entirely Eric’s fault. She did have the tendency to get caught up in her work; put on professional blinders, so to speak. More than one guy in her past told her she overanalyzed things. Obsessed a bit much over details. And while those traits were necessary for her job, she knew they weren’t so helpful in her romantic relationships.
She moved a noodle around with her fork. Maybe she’d been too hard on Eric, expected him to be more than what he could give? Or maybe they’d just never been right for each other after all.
She took another bite. She couldn’t bring herself to settle, so it was probably easier to just be single.
But was it, really? She was only in her thirties. Surely someone out there in the world would appreciate a woman who thought things through, and would share her interest in history.
Make that a deep love of history. That’s why she’d gone into museum studies, after all.
Vanessa’s undergrad degree in linguistics came from New York University— she hadn’t been happy with any of the college programs back home in Kansas—but then she’d ended up surprising herself with wanting to get a masters.
So she’d chosen museum studies because she’d always been passionate about history. But how was it her fault if men found her intelligence intimidating?
She stabbed a stray noodle with her fork. The last straw with Eric was when he’d forgotten to show up for the very first exhibit she’d designed and curated herself. Even though she’d reminded him twice and he knew how important it’d been to her. He’d claimed he’d mixed up the dates of her exhibit with his ‘sure thing big role’ audition.
She shook her head and pushed aside those thoughts. She didn’t need any man in her life. She was just fine on her own. Independent. Free. She lifted her chin. Yes. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her just because she didn’t have a date tonight. She wasn’t alone. She had friends. Family. A good job. And maybe that in itself was cause for a bit of celebration, so why not dress up tonight?
She smiled to herself as she finished her dinner and sent a text to Melissa. Dress up! Thirty minutes to go before the show starts.
She put her dishes in the dishwasher then headed into her bedroom.
She rummaged through her clothes and pulled out a teal dress that still had the tags on. She slipped into the dress and pulled on a pair of silver matte heels.
She went over to her jewelry box. It sat on the marble-topped dresser she’d gotten for free from the sidewalk when the upstairs neighbors moved out. She pulled out the strand of jet beads her mother had given her. Hmm. Now where was that set of earrings that went with it?
She rummaged around in the top compartment where she kept all her earrings. It was a bit of a jumble. Really sometime she should straighten it all out. Oh, there they were. She picked the pair up but a few others had gotten tangled together with them, including a pair of two-tier garnet drop earrings, which had a row of diamonds between the garnet drop and the base.
The garnet earrings had been a birthday present from her grandmother years ago. As she disentangled the mess, the garnet earrings fell onto the marble dresser with a clatter, and began to roll across the smooth surface.
But before she could scoop them up, her apartment buzzer sounded. That’d be Melissa.
She dashed out of her bedroom as she slipped in the jet earrings, and answered the door.
“I brought popcorn, like I promised,” Melissa said. She had on a mauve wrap dress. “Oh, and I brought some chocolate brownies too—freshly baked.”
“Mmm, smells delicious. Thanks—come on in. You’re right on time. I’ll get the drinks. Let me just turn on the TV.”
A minute later, Vanessa returned with a drink tray and took a seat on the couch beside her friend. “Love your dress, by the way.”
“Thanks. Sample sale in the garment district my brother told me about. He texted me during a lull in the stakeout he was on in the area. But you didn’t hear that bit of hush-hush info from me.”
“Nice.”
The show hadn’t quite started yet, so Vanessa turned down the volume on the current commercial. She chewed on a cuticle for a second before she finally blurted, “Do I overanalyze things?”
“That’s a question out of left field,” Melissa said as she reached for the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of the couch.
She finished the handful of popcorn she’d grabbed before she said, “Don’t tell me. You’ve been moping around up here feeling sorry for yourself and wondering where all the good men are.”
Vanessa sighed. “Guess I’m letting stress get the better of me.” She rubbed the tight spot at the base of her neck. “My boss just took an emergency leave of absence and now I’m pretty much running the place. I’m excited about the opportunity but kind of stressed about it too.”
“I can understand that. But I mean, think how stressful finishing your masters’ was. And then job hunting. And then your first few years at the museum adjusting to the job role. And you nailed all of it.”
“You’re right. Thanks for that reminder. Guess I’m just over-thinking things again,” she joked.
“Aww.” Melissa leaned over and gave her friend a quick hug. “You’ve been thinking about Eric again, haven’t you?”
Vanessa opened her mouth to protest but Melissa crossed her arms. “If anything, Eric wasn’t deep enough for you. He didn’t really know you. He was so busy worrying about his image as a rising star—” she rolled her eyes— ”that he couldn’t see what he was neglecting: you. Don’t worry. You’ll find the right man.”
She nodded at the TV. “Ooo, it’s starting. Time for some eye candy.”
Vanessa secretly couldn’t help agreeing—her stomach tingled every time the opening credit montage rolled.
Tonight was no exception when she saw that glint of adventure captured in the close-up of Jake Ford’s blue-green eyes moments before he dove, shirtless, from the top of a waterfall in the jungles of Ecuador.
The music swelled.
Vanessa couldn’t help but admire the strong muscled lines of his back before the camera panned out and then cut to the next scenes in the show’s opening sequence.
Jake driving an open-top Jeep across the Sahara, looking all serious and sexy in his dark aviator sunglasses. Jake landing a helicopter on a glacier in the Arctic Circle. Jake grinning like a kid at Christmas as he plucked a gold coin from a sandy cave floor in Jamaica and exclaiming, “That’s amazing!” to an archaeologist beside him.
With one more grin for the camera, Jake’s face faded from the screen and the Passport to Romance & Relics logo came on right before it went to commercial again.
Melissa gave a happy sigh. “He’s just so delicious to look at, isn’t he?”
“Mmm.” Vanessa made herself sound non-committal. If Melissa found out the size of her crush, she’d never hear the end of it. But the show was more than that—it was a way to see places in the world she’d never been.
“You know,” Melissa said after she took a sip of her drink, “I read a blog article just yesterday about how he’s been voted Sexiest TV Host of the Year.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” Melissa grinned at Vanessa. “A bit over half the show’s viewers are women in their 30s and 40s.” She paused. Frowned. “But I’m a bit worried about the show’s future. It also mentioned the ratings really tanked on this season finale. I don’t know why, though. I love this show.”
The last commercial ended and the season finale began.
*
MELISSA LEFT A COUPLE hours later.
After Vanessa squeezed in another hour of work on her laptop, she yawned and shut her laptop lid. Time for bed at last.
She got out her striped pajama shorts and matching top, but then saw she’d left her jewelry box lid open and went over to her dresser to close it.
But as she did, her bare toes nudged against something smooth and cool on the floor. She glanced down and frowned. Oh no—the garnet earrings. Must have rolled off the dresser when she’d gone to answer the door earlier in the evening. She bent over to pick up the jewelry.
But as she did, the large garnet drop disconnected itself from the earbob.
Grandma wouldn’t be too happy with her. She winced. These earrings were how old? She didn’t really know. Grandma had said something about getting them from an estate sale in the Hamptons.
Vanessa studied the broken earring. The piece was somewhat unique. There was a tiny metal loop at the bottom of the garnet drop where a second gemstone could be attached, to create two tiers of jewels. But she’d never had the second tier.
She sighed. Where was she going to find someone to fix the earring? She carefully scooped it up. She didn’t know any antique jewelry repair shops but in a place like New York, she surely could find someone to—
What was that? She frowned as she cupped the two broken pieces in her palm. That was strange. It looked like...
She nudged the garnet drop with a fingertip. The inside was hollow.
She carefully picked up the hollowed-out jewel and looked inside. What on Earth? The smallest scrap of...was that paper?... had been curled up inside.
She rushed to the kitchen as her heart pounded, and grabbed a pair of tweezers from her bathroom. Then she slipped on her preservation gloves, too.
She took the earring over to the lamp by the kitchen table to see it better, and carefully inserted the tweezers into the small cavity.
She held her breath as she very gently tugged out the piece of yellowed paper.
She placed it on the plastic bagging that she still had set out, and whether moments or minutes passed, she wasn’t sure, as she lost herself in the precise set of steps needed to unfurl the page.
At last, she grabbed a magnifying glass from that same kitchen drawer where she kept her gloves, and peered at the small, neat lines of script.
It took her a bit of time to discern the words. The writing had badly faded and smeared, as if someone hadn’t waited for the ink to dry before rolling up the slip of paper.
“First taste of love is bittersweet/when between those lines/secrets do not retreat.” Vanessa’s breath hitched as she quietly mouthed the words to herself.
Some sort of rhyming verse. A poem? Her heart sped up. But what if...it was a riddle?
She shook her head at herself. She was getting ahead of herself. But that didn’t stop the speculations that whirled through her mind as she stared at the words on the tiny scrap of paper.
*
JAKE FROWNED AT THE computer screen and sighed. He sat back in the dark red leather office chair and laced his fingers behind his head.
He liked to come to the studio to think. With the show wrapped, he had a bit of time to figure out the game plan—but not that much time. He winced as his eyes darted to the wall calendar. He had less than a month to figure out how to provide what his boss, Sara, and the network, wanted.
Not that the flag story in itself wasn’t compelling, but he wasn’t sure that would be enough to keep audiences around. They had to be glued to their sets, what with the show’s fate hanging in the balance here.
His shoulders tensed as he stared up at the ceiling. Well, the flag was a historical treasure, so that was something.
Thing was, even if he did his damnedest and came up with the perfect episode, that was no guarantee it’d be a success with viewers.
He opened one of the drawers on the lower half of the desk and rummaged around until he found a feather duster.
Dusting helped him think. He picked up the yellow-feathered plastic duster.
He turned to the knickknack shelf behind him. As he dusted carved soapstone boxes from India, tribal masks from Kenya and an antique globe on a stand from who knew where, his shoulders relaxed and his mind drifted back to that flag. The needle and thimble. Robert Townsend.
Hmm. Since the needle and thimble had been in the Townsend family’s possession, the first logical step in his own research should be to look them up. Get some background. He could also draft a reply to the sender of that email... But first, research.
See? Dusting—always helped.
He headed back to his wide-display desktop computer and brought up the search engine.
He clicked on Wikipedia. Looked like Robert Townsend owned a store in what was now Lower Manhattan. Also seemed the Townsend family had been in the New York area for several generations, and were friends with prominent Long Island families.
Jake finished the online encyclopedia entry and turned back to the rest of the results. About halfway down the page, a headline caught his eye:
Townsend and Culper Ring Connected to Lost Pearls?
A surge of adrenaline shot through him. That feeling of discovery just never got old.
But then he sternly reminded himself that this could be something that meant nothing. So many hoaxes and fakes out there.
A while back, there’d been a social media fight between a few loyal fans of the show and some Internet trolls who’d claimed Passport to Romance & Relics had been just one big fake from beginning to end.
Jake shook his head. The show wasn’t faked. Good thing that had died down in about a day.
He held his breath as he clicked on the link.
Robert Townsend, a member of the secret spy ring created by George Washington, may have had a few secrets of his own while he worked for Washington during the American Revolution.
The shopkeeper, who also worked as a reporter for James Rivington’s newspaper called The Royal Gazette, had prime opportunity to pass information to his general, because the occupying British frequented the shop for everything from buttons to boot laces.
Jake kept reading.
Not only did British soldiers frequent it, but also aristocratic Loyalists came by who wanted to buy ribbon and lace for their latest fashions, or purchase a ream of writing paper.
In fact, Townsend himself would use sheets of blank paper from his own stock to write secret letters in invisible ink. These would be easily overlooked by the British checkpoints into and out of the city, thus able to pass safely on to Washington. His sister Sally also helped her brother in the shop.
But was Townsend’s place of business also the intended destination for a cache of priceless pearls earmarked for the patriot cause?
After all, his shop was located on Peck’s Slip at the waterfront, and the pearls had supposedly been carried by a French ship.
For some time, Washington had been in talks with France about sending aid. The Thirteen Colonies lacked arms and monies that European countries like France had in more abundance. But up to that point, Washington had not been successful. Finally, though, Louis XVI agreed to Washington’s plea.
But the aid came from an unexpected source. The king of France had, several months prior to Washington’s asking for aid, received a cache of large pearls from the Maharaja of India as a diplomatic gift. Louis XVI had planned to distribute these among the favored members of his own court, but decided instead that he would send them on to the patriots, as a gesture of not only good will but also because he knew that the patriots could use the cache to monetize their efforts.
However, after Louis XVI had them loaded as cargo aboard a French frigate bound for the Colonies, they never made it into the hands of General Washington. All trace of the cache vanished from the pages of history.
Were they stolen by pirates? Did the British use them for their own ends? Or maybe they never left France after all...
We might never know the full story. But one thing’s for certain: if anyone found those pearls today, their connection to the Culper ring, and to American history, means they’d be worth millions.
Jake’s lips quirked. Worth millions, huh? Would these pearls be worth millions of ratings, too? His heart pounded as he scanned the article again.
Hmm. Sally Townsend worked at her brother’s shop. Would the Townsend descendant know anything about the lost pearls angle? It couldn’t hurt to ask, while they were there about the flag. And if there was something more to this whole pearls thing, the viewers would be eager to watch his hunt to find out.
He dug out his phone from a buttoned cargo pocket on his khaki pants and dialed Sara. “Hey, how’s it going? Just found a really compelling angle that could tie in perfectly for this flag episode. Robert Townsend and his sister are even involved.”
“Send me the link.”
Jake did.
“I see what you’re talking about. This is perfect.”
“This sort of intrigue’s the kind of thing the network loves. And the lost jewels angle—okay, lost pearls—would be a big draw for the core female viewership.”
“You’re completely right. Let’s add it in. I’ll brief the network execs.”
Jake’s adrenaline spiked as he hung up. What if he could actually find this pearl cache? He’d not only skyrocket the show’s ratings, but he also just might get to realize a long-held dream to find lost treasure...
*
MONDAY AFTERNOON, VANESSA stood up and stretched as she took a sip from her now-cold coffee.
She made a face and headed to the bathroom to pour it down the sink. It had helped her push through with all this work, but she should probably stop drinking so much caffeine.
She returned to her desk and sat down again. She smoothed down the skirt of her pink striped cotton dress, and studied the spreadsheet she had on part of her screen.
She massaged her temples. At least she’d finally managed to get the venue all lined up in Morristown for the gala spot and had texted Kali about that. The video had gone over nicely, too, and the tickets were selling well.
She’d also reassured her boss that she’d been able to contact existing ticket holders and alert them to the venue location change.
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. But now it was time to make a last push for more buzz. She’d schedule some more social media posts with the change in venue location and send out a last round of press releases stating the same.
She exhaled slowly as she checked the small desk calendar to the right of her laptop. A week and a half to go before the event.
She allowed a brief smile to flit across her face as a sense of accomplishment filled her. Something else she loved about her job: the reward of tiny little tasks that added up to giant results.
Now she just had to sell the remainder of the tickets, and finalize items for the silent auction. She pulled up her design software and was in the middle of looking for stock photos of Martha Washington when her desk telephone rang.
“Hello, Women of the American Revolution Museum, Vanessa speaking. How can I help you?”
A deep male voice came through the receiver. “Hi Vanessa. My name’s Jake Ford. I’m co-producer of a television show called Passport to Romance & Relics.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened, her throat constricted and her pulse pounded as the phone fell from her grip.
She snatched up the handset again, took a calming breath that did nothing to stop the wild beating of her heart as she said, “Uh, Mr. Ford, um, hello. I’m a fa— I mean, I’ve heard of the series.”
“Well, that’s one thing that’s easier for me, then. Don’t have to explain what we do.”
“Right.” Vanessa nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. She cleared her throat. “So. What, um, can I help you with?”
“I saw your video about female spies’ role in the War of Independence.”
“Oh, did you?” Despite herself, Vanessa’s voice came out higher-pitched than normal.
“Mmm-hmm. Listen, I’m calling because my writers and I have been gathering research and well, I’ll get straight to the point. We want to interview you for an upcoming episode.”
Vanessa frowned. “I’m sorry, but why?”
“Oh,” Jake chuckled. “The episode we’re working on is about an early American flag that might have been sewn by Agent 355.”
Vanessa drew in a sharp breath and leaned forward.
“Not only that, we’ve found a possible connection between the Culper spy ring and a lost pearl cache.”
“A lost pearl cache?” Vanessa sat back in her seat. “I wouldn’t know where to find it.”
“Don’t worry, that’s my job,” Jake said. “Your expertise is female spies, yeah?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say expertise, exactly. But I am working on an exhibit about them, yes.” Her mind flashed back to that letter from 355. Since Jake Ford had been doing research on the Culper spies, he might have information about 355 she didn’t. If he did, he might be willing to share. And then that might add to the exhibit as a whole...
“Right. We figure that since Agent 355 was the Culpers’ female spy, you’d be a perfect addition to our interviewee list for the episode. ”
“Oh.” Vanessa swallowed again. “You mean in front of a camera? On TV?”
“Sure do.”
Vanessa’s palms grew clammy, and several moments of silence passed. She cleared her throat.
“Your museum is one of the only specialty museums on this sort of thing,” Jake added.
“It’s not exactly my museum,” Vanessa blurted. Why was she all awkward right now? She winced. Maybe it was the fact she was talking with her secret celebrity crush. Her cheeks reddened.
Jake chuckled. “Figure of speech. I think you know what I mean.” He paused. ”My team’s already in New York, setting up some preliminaries with another source. I know it’s extremely short notice, but if you would possibly be available tomorrow, that would be phenomenal. We’re working under a, uh, limited time horizon with this episode.”
Vanessa drummed her fingers on the table. That was really soon, but in addition to the 355 angle, this was an unbelievable opportunity for more media exposure, what with the gala coming up. And the more media exposure, the more likely those remaining gala tickets would sell.
But her stomach clenched. Could she actually go on camera again? Her pulse sped at the thought. She couldn’t just...speak to millions of people. The show reached so many and what if she screwed up? What if she made everyone look bad? What if people thought—
No. She straightened her shoulders. It wasn’t about what people thought. It was for the greater good of history, of the museum. And if she could somehow contribute in some small way to that cause, then who was she to refuse when asked?
“All right, Jake. I’ll do it.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much. My production assistant will send you the details.”