| |
Breathe. All she had to do was breathe, Vanessa told herself on Tuesday morning.
She resisted the urge to wipe her sweaty palms yet again on the sides of her powder-blue skirt suit as she paced back and forth in the museum’s tiny foyer.
This was such a bad idea. But Kali had loved it when Vanessa’d told her boss Jake’s proposition. Kali saw the potential, too, and had agreed this would help raise the museum’s profile, and hopefully, the gala profits, as well.
Vanessa took a shaky breath and watched the door. Her heels clicked as she paced faster. What was she thinking? What was she doing? She couldn’t—Jake Ford—the show—this was crazy.
Okay, so maybe she was overreacting a little. If she kept calm and acted normal, took more deep breaths, everything would be fine. Right?
She really should’ve asked Melissa to be here with her. Her phone buzzed with her deadline alarm and she jumped. Five minutes before the crew got here.
She started to worry at her bottom lip and then realized she would probably smudge her lipstick, so she made herself stop.
She glanced again at the door and then at the clock. She had a few seconds to make a few more minor adjustments to her hairstyle. But before she could move, the door chime sounded.
Vanessa’s heart leapt to her throat. But she made herself take a final deep breath before she opened the front door.
A short woman with curly hair stood on the doorstep. “Hi, I’m Nadine, the production assistant for Passport to Romance & Relics. You must be Vanessa.” She had a headset around her neck and a clipboard in hand.
“I am. Come on in.” Vanessa ignored the ping of disappointment that Jake hadn’t been on the step. “I’ll just prop the door open and you guys can get all set up.”
“Perfect.”
Vanessa’s gaze darted to the bathroom, just off the front room. Now was her chance.
She crossed the room in a few quick strides and went inside. She never spent long in places quite this small—the tiny, cramped space made her a bit nervous.
She took a calming breath, smoothed some loose strands away from her face and splashed her wrists with some cool water from the tap. She met her own gaze in the mirror. Okay. Things were fine. Going to be great, in fact.
She took a final deep breath, opened the bathroom door and—“Oof!”—bumped into a solid male chest.
“Oops, sorry about that. Thought this was the break room.”
There he was. Mere inches away. Jake Ford.
She froze, wide-eyed, her mouth suddenly dry.
There was an apologetic look in Jake’s blue-green gaze, and her heart tripped. The television screen didn’t do justice to the way his broad shoulders filled out that sand-colored safari shirt. Or how his dark lashes—
“Hope I didn’t startle you badly enough to take too many years off your life.”
“Oh.” She laughed. He was taller in real life than on TV. Must be nearly 6’2”? His head practically brushed the ceiling. Then again, in all these 18th century houses, the ceilings were pretty low. Why was her mind spitting out all these random useless facts right now?
She needed to get herself together.
Tingles swept through her. She did her best to push them away. They wouldn’t do her any good, and distractions like this were definitely not professional.
She cleared her throat. She needed to be strong. In control. “No. It’s fine.” She took a big step around Jake and into the center of the room, which was rapidly filling up with cameras and other equipment, along with several people who must be part of his team.
She avoided making eye contact with Jake as she addressed the room. “Hi, everyone. I’m Vanessa. Just let me know what you need me to do and I’ll be happy to accommodate you. Bathroom’s to the right there and the break room’s just down the hallway here.” She indicated behind her and couldn’t help but notice the faint sparkle of amusement in Jake’s eyes when she said break room.
Her own lips twitched for a second but she compressed them and looked at everyone else expectantly.
People nodded. Someone began to set up a series of lights and some other pieces of equipment that Vanessa couldn’t identify.
Coffee. Surely people would like some coffee as they worked? She knew she needed some. If not for the caffeine boost then for the distraction.
She looked at Jake, who was now across the room in a conversation with someone who she assumed must be one of the camera men. She wasn’t avoiding him. He was just...busy. Right. Exactly. She approached Nadine, who now wore her headset and a bright smile.
“Would you or any of your crew like any coffee?”
“Oh, that’s nice of you. Thanks.”
“Great, I’ll put on a fresh pot.”
With a quiet sigh of relief, she headed down the hall. This was for the museum, she reminded herself, as she reached past the single-cup pod coffeemaker, and dug out the coffee pot from a cupboard. Then she went through the motions of prepping a pot. For the sake of preserving history. She didn’t have to feel nervous or—
“Oh, good,” Jake said, as he stepped into the room, phone in hand. “Coffee’s just what I need.” His phone pinged and he scrolled down the screen.
Vanessa tamped down a flicker of irritation. No, Jake wasn’t Eric. But a memory of her ex surfaced anyway. She’d gone with him to auditions from time to time as moral support and all he’d done was ask her to fetch and carry: his costume, his hairbrush, his hair gel.
He’d been on his phone practically the whole time, too. Barely even said two words to her. It was all about him. How hadn’t she seen how self-centered Eric’d been? Because she’d thought she’d been in love.
Her jaw tightened. Well, she wasn’t going to make that same mistake again and allow herself to even think about being attracted to another actor. Television crushes were one thing. Real life, quite another.
She took a breath. Jake was just making a comment. Just being friendly.
“Me too,” she admitted, and waved her hand at the machine. “Helps calm my nerves.”
He took the coffee pot and began pouring the steaming liquid into the mugs Vanessa had set out. As he did, he glanced around. “Great atmosphere you’ve got here. All this exposed stonework.”
She couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. “Thanks. Yeah. This was actually a wealthy merchant’s house from the 18th century.” He poured the final cup. She picked it up.
He met her gaze as he leaned against the counter near her. “Oh yeah?” He rubbed a hand across his stubble.
Her pulse jumped at the raspy sound. “We don’t know who owned it back then.” She waved a hand, and almost spilled the coffee cup she held. “Could’ve been anyone, really. I mean, who knows, right?” Okay, she was babbling. She cleared her throat. She needed to stop it and be professional. “Frankly,” she took a breath, “I haven’t had time to look into its full history, but we’re pretty sure this part is basically the last original bit of the house.” She pointed to the area near the sink, and found herself enjoying the chance to talk about the building itself. “But it’s looked better. We’re still waiting for a masonry person to fix the loose stone by the sink here. Seems like we put it on the bottom of the list, though, what with all this other stuff we’ve had to do. The fundraising. The gala organizing.”
“And your spies exhibit,” Jake added.
“Right,” Vanessa smiled. “The spies exhibit. Which is what you’re here to talk to me about.” She swallowed and twisted the mug around in her hands.
“Hey,” he said, and his voice dipped a little lower, into a more serious tone, and Vanessa couldn’t help the tingle that slid up her spine at the timbre. “I remember I was so nervous the very first time I went on air. You’ll be fine.”
That was nice of him. “Thanks.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ve done this once before already, so I’m sure I will be.”
“So. Whenever you’re ready, I think we’re all set up out there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
“Right.” She took a quick sip of her coffee then followed him out into the hallway and back to the main room.
Everything had been set up. In fact, it looked pretty similar to the video setup for the fundraiser.
She felt her shoulders relax. Maybe this would even be...fun?
*
JAKE TOOK A DEEP BREATH and held it for a moment as Bryce gave the three, two, one countdown. But as the red light blinked on, a surge of excitement zipped through him like it always did and he began to talk.
“So, Vanessa, you’re the assistant curator with the Women of the American Revolution Museum. I’d actually never even heard of a place like this before we started researching this episode, so that’s great. I love to learn new things.”
He grinned and met Vanessa’s eyes. That green was much more compelling up close compared to when he’d watched her on his phone screen. He pushed away that thought. Focus on the questions. Focus on the topic.
She adjusted her skirt and Jake couldn’t help flicking his gaze to her long legs as she crossed and then re-crossed her ankles. “That’s right. We’re actually a fairly new museum and started operations two years ago. We only just recently moved into this house about a month ago.”
“I can see why. It’s got some great historical details. And it’s from the 18th century.” He paused as a thought struck him. “Hey, maybe this house could be connected with the Culpers. It’s in the right spot—Lower Manhattan—after all.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened a moment, and he thought he detected a flicker of panic at the off-the-cuff question, but she recovered herself quickly. “I never really thought about that. But,” she laughed, “maybe so? I mean, you’re right. This house was here during the British occupation of New York.”
“Speaking of the Revolution, we’re looking into one of its historical mysteries. I mentioned to you earlier we’ve found reference to an early American flag that might have been sewn by Agent 355. So, what can you tell people about her?”
“Not much.” Vanessa laughed. “Not even her name. 355 simply means “a lady,” according to the Culper codebook, developed by Colonel Benjamin Tallmadge. He assigned numbers between 1 and 765 to various people, places and things. But it’s speculated 355 was a member of New York high society, and probably from a Loyalist family, since New York at the time was more Loyalist than Patriot.”
“I hadn’t realized that.”
Vanessa nodded. “While 355’s one of the women featured in the exhibit I’m working on, there were other female patriots who played a role in the Revolution.”
“Right. Everyone hears all the time about men like Paul Revere, but there isn’t as much notoriety around the women, is there?”
Vanessa shook her head. “Back then, spying was considered too dangerous for women. But,” Vanessa spread her hands, “that error in judgment was a benefit, because it gave women opportunities to obtain information in ways men didn’t or couldn’t. British troops often billeted in Colonial households, and while women went about their daily lives, they also picked up bits of useful information to pass along.”
“The whole hiding in plain sight thing,” Jake said.
“Exactly.” Vanessa grinned. “Though sometimes it was just plain hiding. One part of this exhibit will feature a woman named Lydia Darragh. She lived in Philadelphia during the war. In December of 1777, British troops who lived in her house had a secret meeting. She hid inside a closet and overheard their plan to surprise Washington’s army at White Marsh. After their meeting, she went out under the guise of delivering flour to a nearby mill. But really, she passed on what she’d learned.”
“That’s so interesting. I can see why you’d feel the need for an exhibit like this,” Jake said. “But going back to Agent 355 and the Culpers for a minute.” He leaned forward and caught a hint of Vanessa’s floral perfume; it smelled like sweet pea and—He couldn’t get sidetracked. “We think there’s a possible connection between the Culper spy ring and a lost pearl cache.”
“Oh?” Vanessa re-crossed her ankles.
“Is that a story you’ve come across in your research about female spies in the Revolution?”
She tilted her head. “Actually, no. I’ve never heard about that at all. But there’s certainly quite a bit that could be discovered.”
Jake leaned forward. Vanessa didn’t seem to be humoring him; Laura certainly hadn’t been so open-minded. “So you think it’s possible?”
She studied him a moment. “I suppose you could say anything’s possible.”
“Well put.” For a moment, he forgot the next question he was going to ask. Right. Okay. Needed to focus. He cleared his throat. “What’s your view on something like the lost pearls?”
“I mean,” Vanessa said, “the Culper ring had serious business with helping Washington re-take New York and win the war. What would they want pearls for?”
“That’s the thing, though,” Jake countered, with a look at the camera then back to Vanessa. “From what I’ve read, the ring supposedly was going to use the cache to raise funds for the war effort.”
Vanessa waved a hand. “Folklore like that is the enemy of solid historic evidence and research.”
“I thought you said anything was possible.”
“I just don’t know how probable it is.”
Vanessa’s words caused a twinge of disappointment to streak through Jake. But maybe he was taking her comment too personally. With all his TV experience, he should’ve just been able to shrug it off. But somehow, coming from her...
“The show makes every effort to research the facts,” Jake said, careful to keep his tone light. “We talk to as many experts and primary sources as possible to make sure we’re as accurate as we can be.”
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed a fraction of a second before she straightened her spine and replied, “Well, it’s my job to make sure that history is taken seriously, and that means taking my work seriously.” She said it with a smile for the camera but Jake knew he’d crossed a line.
“Of course,” he said, but he could tell it’d done little good. Damn. He hadn’t meant to insult her.
*
AS THE CAMERA’S RED light blinked off, Vanessa’s shoulders stiffened even more. She did her best to avoid eye contact with Jake. Did he not take history seriously? She pursed her lips and looked at him from the corner of her eye. Maybe he was more treasure hunter than historian.
She stood then glanced at the clock above the stone fireplace. At least they’d be gone in twenty minutes. Then she could get back to her normal routine...
She headed over to her desk, which was tucked into an alcove by the stairway that led to the seldom-used second floor. She needed to put up a few more social media posts about the remaining gala tickets, and then she’d be able to turn her attention back to her somewhat-neglected female spies exhibit.
Guilt nipped at her. Really, that was what Jake had interviewed her about. The least she could do was finish the exhibit planning so she could move on to the next phase in the exhibition process.
Besides that, she also wanted to find out who’d sent that letter to her mailing address.
Hmm. Melissa’s brother worked for the FBI, so maybe if she asked Melissa to ask him, he’d be able to trace the letter?
But before she could log on to her computer, Jake approached. She stood and lifted her chin.
“Listen.” Jake rubbed the side of his neck. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
The open, relaxed—and somewhat rueful—expression on Jake’s face made some of the tightness in Vanessa’s shoulders ease.
“Our signals might’ve gotten a little crossed.” Her lips quirked. “What else can I do for you?” she said, careful to keep her tone professional.
“Forgive me?” Jake’s blue-green gaze studied her with a questioning look.
But just as she opened her mouth to respond, there was a scuffling noise followed by a heavy thud, and then a muffled round of swearing.
Vanessa’s eyes snapped to the direction of the sound.
She walked quickly down the hall, barely noticing Jake right behind her. She peered around the doorway of the break room.
One of the two camera men looked up from the pile of mortar and dust. A chunk of stone lay on the floor by the sink.
He pulled a face as he looked from Vanessa to Jake behind her. “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. I was just grabbing a glass of water from the sink here and I banged my elbow against the wall. Must have jostled something because the next moment, this was all on the floor.” He twisted his mouth and gestured to the rubble.
“That’s okay, Bryce.” Jake nodded toward Vanessa. “It’s what we have insurance for.” He turned back to Bryce. “No worries, man.” Jake clapped the other man on the shoulder.
Vanessa added, “That’s been loose for awhile. Now we have the perfect reason to bug the masonry company to hurry up.” She headed to the dusty piece of stone and bent to pick it up. “Let’s just put it back for now as best we can.”
She walked over to the hole in the wall with the piece of stone in her hand, and started to put the piece of stone back but paused and frowned.
It looked like a whitish yellow piece of cloth in there... It blended in with the mortar dust, and sat in a narrow gap behind where the stone had worked loose.
She reached a hand out and her fingertips brushed the brittle cloth. It looked like muslin. Very old muslin.
“Look at that,” Jake murmured as he came to stand next to her.
Vanessa met his gaze, and as their eyes locked, she felt tingles zip up her spine. “This must’ve been here for...”
Jake raised his brows. “...centuries?” A corner of his mouth lifted, and something about his expression made Vanessa’s stomach flip. Oh. This was exactly the same expression he wore when she saw him on the show every week.
Except—her breath caught—it was happening right now, to her, in real life.
She exhaled slowly and realized neither she nor Jake had broken eye contact. From behind them, Bryce cleared his throat.
Jake blinked rapidly and looked like he’d just come back from somewhere far away...alone with her.
Vanessa’s cheeks warmed.
“I think we should get a camera on this, Bryce,” Jake said.
“Got it.” The other man left the room to retrieve his gear.
“So we shouldn’t touch anything yet?” Vanessa lowered her voice to a whisper as she looked from Jake to whatever it was wrapped in cloth.
He nodded. “Probably a good idea. Keep as much drama on the screen as possible. Works best, especially for people who aren’t in showbiz, to get initial reactions.”
“But how do you know this is even anything?”
Jake shrugged. “Best policy to film first and ask questions later.”
Vanessa’s brows rose.
“Kidding, kidding,” Jake lifted his hands, palm up. “I just meant that it’s a good idea to get things on film even if we don’t end up using them. Because if we don’t have something, we can’t really go back and re-discover it for the first time.”
“Oh. Right.”
Bryce had come back into the room and Jake glanced at Vanessa. “Ready?”
She nodded. Jake gave Bryce the word and with a subtle nod, indicated Vanessa should go ahead and lift out the packet.
She closed her fingers carefully over the yellowed cloth and pulled it out.
“Oh, it feels like...” She put the packet on the kitchen counter and tried to ignore the churn of her stomach as Bryce stepped forward with the camera, no doubt to get a better angle of her.
Under the crumbled strips of cloth Jake reached forward to brush aside, Vanessa saw a dark brown leather cover of some sort of book.
“That’s amazing,” Jake whispered, his voice low, reverent.
“What’s inside?”
“Let’s find out.”
Vanessa’s heart tugged at his enthusiasm. But she put a hand on his arm. “Wait. We need to do this properly. I’ll get my gloves, and a pair for you.”
Moments later, she returned. Jake slipped on the second pair she gave him. He flashed her a grin, and she couldn’t help responding with a grin of her own as they both reached out and, together, opened the book’s cover.
“It’s not a book,” Jake murmured.
“More like some sort of document holder. Looks like there’s just one sheet of paper inside. Interesting.”
“A piece of history, right here.” Jake’s blue-green eyes glowed; he looked like he’d just been given an extra helping of cake and ice cream.
Vanessa caught a whiff of his cologne—something like sandalwood—as Jake leaned in next to her to read the page.
12 December 1779
The Floyds’ ballroom was magnificently festooned with holly and garland. ‘Twould hardly seem a war is waged, from the opulence within those walls. Indeed, I received a number of compliment from many a British officer on my blue moire gown and ear-bobs—Father is most pleased. But it all paled in comparison to when I met him tonight. For he has set my blood afire.
He spoke with such passion, with his whispered words of liberty and independence, and I cannot forget that; no matter how Father’s words of Loyalty to the Crown press upon my mind.
Nay, ’tis my conscience that would smite me if I did not follow my heart, if I did not become part of this quest for freedom, for what is right.
One cannot disregard such things and go blindly on with the status quo. One truly cannot. He has shown me that. How I have begun to care for him, I shall admit nowhere but within these pages, for that is what my heart cannot ignore. No matter the cost. I can compare this to nothing else I have experienced, save the freedom and wild joy I feel in galloping my mare across open meadows.
Vanessa exhaled a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding as she read the final words.
“This is...It’s...” Jake exhaled sharply. “Wow.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Vanessa’s hands started to tremble. “From the date and the first-person account, this seems to be a Revolutionary-era document...”
“But what’s it doing hidden behind a loose stone in your break room?”
“Good question.” She stared hard at the page.
Vanessa removed her gloves and chewed on a cuticle for a second as she studied the page more carefully; her eyes darted back and forth over the lines.
“I thought this handwriting looked familiar. It matches a—” Vanessa paused and shifted her weight as Jake met her gaze, his expression intense “—love letter I have from Agent 355.”
Jake glanced at Bryce, who immediately zoomed in for a close-up. He met Vanessa’s gaze again. “We need to talk.”
*
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, the humidity didn’t dampen Jake’s mood as he wove his way through a group of Wall Street bankers on the Manhattan sidewalk. “I know, right? That’s what she said.” Jake couldn’t help but feel more than a little tingle of enthusiasm as he relayed his conversation with Vanessa to Sara.
And he knew that tingle had more than a little to do with the fact that a certain assistant curator had agreed to help them out more with this episode.
“Yes,” Jake said. “I’ve arranged for the next interview and we’ll be heading there...” he checked his silver Rolex Explorer, “early tomorrow morning. Uh-huh... We’ve discussed it. Vanessa said she realized that if we pool our resources to see what we can uncover about 355 and her identity, it’ll help the museum and this female spy exhibit she’s working on, as well as our episode. I also think her own professional curiosity about this love letter and diary entry had something to do with it.”
Vanessa.
He couldn’t help but remember the way her green eyes had lit with an internal fire as she’d explained her decision. She was so passionate about history, about people’s lives from other eras.
He smiled to himself. He could definitely relate. Because that’s what history was all about. Uncovering the stories behind the names and dates. Bringing it alive for people today, so that they could see the relevance. Not to mention, she was also willing to believe the pearls might actually be out there...
Whoops. Sara was talking. “What? Oh. Yeah. I mean, who knows? Agent 355 was a Culper. So she might be connected to the pearls, too. Mmm. I’ve double-checked and our budget will cover the costs. Luckily, Vanessa’s boss agreed with her reasoning and gave her permission to come along in an advisory and research capacity. Great. Talk soon.”
Jake hung up then slipped his phone into the upper pocket of his safari shirt. Gotta love shirts with so many pockets. A side perk of why he’d become an explorer and adventurer.
But was he, really? Sure, he’d renewed his membership with The Explorers’ Club earlier this year, just like he’d done for the past twelve years, but did that make him on par with Sir Edmund Hillary or Amelia Earhart?
He shook his head. He was just letting his insecurities get out of hand. Of course he was a real explorer like they had been. He’d gotten a degree in the field. He’d gotten the passport stamps.
He veered around a cluster of grade school kids in all-matching navy blue uniforms who giggled over a tablet.
Maybe those cries of fake on social media had gotten the better of him? He shouldn’t be dwelling on this. It’d happened months ago. Just because someone had accused the show of being fake didn’t make it true. It didn’t make him a fake, either.
He’d done more exploring and been to more countries than most people would go in their entire lifetimes, he reminded himself. That counted for something. Right?
He sighed as he came to a crosswalk and waited for the light to change. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d noticed these doubts creep in right around the time things began to fall apart between him and Laura.
As if her leaving had something to do with his competency in his career, in his abilities to handle his life.
He shouldn’t feel that just because he’d failed at love—he winced at the admission—that he was a failure as a person, too. Of course not. It didn’t meant that at all.
He shoved his hands into his pocket and crossed the street. The thump of bass from a passing SUV broke into his thoughts. With effort, he pulled his mind back to current events.
He was supposed to meet Bryce and the rest of the team for a briefing. His pulse quickened. Not only that, Vanessa had promised to bring along a copy of Agent 355’s love letter, to compare it with this diary entry they’d uncovered.
Hopefully—he fiddled with some change in his pocket—it would provide some insight. Only twenty-five days left til deadline.