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After Vanessa rode the sweltering subway partway back to her apartment, she decided to walk the rest. The long blocks and marginally cooler, fresher air would do her head some good. Hmmm. How could she arrange to examine that letter in the archives at NYPL more closely?
As she came up the last of the subway steps and onto the street, her thoughts slowed and she felt her mind relax. Maybe if she didn’t think too much about it, a solution might come to her. The blue-and-white umbrella from a hotdog vendor set up nearby caught her attention, and the aroma made her mouth water.
But she made herself flick back through her phone’s notes app instead, to review her conversation with Kali after she’d left the library today. Her boss had sounded tired after a long stint in the hospital waiting room.
But at least Vanessa’d been able to give her good work news: all the gala tickets had sold, and the temp had helped Vanessa finalize the silent auction details. That office temp was such a lifesaver in all this.
But Vanessa’s stomach lurched when she recalled that Kali had also mentioned it would look good if Vanessa brought a date to the gala.
The gala—Vanessa’s palms started to sweat. What if it didn’t pan out? After all, she was responsible for basically everything about it. She clutched her phone tighter. But then she took a deep breath, made her fingers relax. Panicking over last-minute details wouldn’t do her any good. She could do this. It would all work out.
And who knew? If she and Jake actually found out 355’s identity, and the lost pearls, then it’d boost admission sales, and bring in some much-needed investor funding for the museum, too.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and exhaled slowly as her mind drifted back over the day’s events. Her heart thudded as she recalled the way Jake had looked at her over his drink this afternoon. Or how he’d seemed so happy and relaxed in her company.
Her phone vibrated. Jake?
She pulled it out—Melissa. “Hi there, I’m just heading back up to my place.”
“Uh-huh... with Jake?”
Vanessa gave an involuntary giggle. “No-o.” She sidestepped a man in a suit who’d stopped to buy a magazine from a newsstand.
“You sure about that?” Melissa teased. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “So. How’d it go today?”
“Well, Jake and I haven’t figured out who 355 is yet but we’re definitely getting closer. I can feel it.”
“I know what that tone of voice means,” Melissa said. “You like him.”
Vanessa blushed. “We’re just...friendly colleagues. Working on this together.”
“Mmm-hmm. I know that’s what you like to tell yourself.”
Vanessa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Melissa, you know my track record with men. He needs to stay in the friends camp.”
But Vanessa could hear the lack of conviction in her own words. Her pulse thudded. She did like him and—She sighed. “You’re right.” She bit her lip. “I’m just afraid to admit it. The thing is, I don’t know if he likes me too, or if his friendly, playful personality is just how he treats everyone, and so he thinks we’re just...colleagues. Besides that, there’s the whole fact that he’s going to be gone when this episode wraps.”
“So why don’t you ask him?”
Vanessa’s eyes widened. “I can’t just up and ask him that.” She waited with a cluster of people at a street corner for the light to change.
“Why not? It’s the 21st century.” A motorcycle revved its engine, and nearly drowned out Melissa’s words.
Vanessa raised her voice. “Because that could ruin what we do have.” The remark earned her an amused look from the gray-haired woman beside her, who had a perfect perm and toted a rolling suitcase.
As the light turned green, the motorcycle roared off in a cloud of exhaust.
Vanessa sighed. “I don’t want to go tiptoeing around him after I embarrass myself by asking. It’s better to just keep things under control, under the carpet. Besides, like I said, he likes to joke around, have fun, kid people. So why should I think he’s treating me any differently than any other woman he knows?” She hesitated. “I mean, after the way Eric treated me, how can I trust myself to be a good judge of a man’s character?”
“Awww. I think you’ve just had a few scars on your heart that might be getting in the way...” Melissa’s voice was gentle. “I wish I could give you a hug right now.”
“Thanks.”
After a pause, Melissa said, “But if you’re wondering what Jake’s thinking, you should just ask him. Because I mean, not to be blunt, but what’s the point if you don’t?”
“Uh, the point is, I don’t risk getting hurt,” Vanessa crossed the street. Not too much farther to her place.
“You can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Melissa pointed out.
“That’s your modus operandi, not mine.”
“True, but why not give it a shot? You never know.”
Vanessa tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she rummaged in her purse for her keys. “Listen, I just...” She took a breath. “It wouldn’t be professional. Can we talk about something else now, please?”
Her friend laughed. “All right, all right.”
They continued to chat as Vanessa went into the building and let herself back into her apartment.
But after she hung up and put her phone down on her coffee table, she couldn’t help but remember the way that Jake had held her gaze as they’d talked on her couch. Or the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips as he’d told her the story behind his bracelet. The look of earnest openness in his blue-green gaze, and the—
She shook her head. All this daydreaming wasn’t doing her any good. It would only create heartbreak in the end. When the episode wrapped. When he had to fly off to some far-flung destination.
But her heart didn’t listen. Maybe Melissa was right? What would it hurt if she asked him straight out? Found out his true feelings?
Her breath caught. What if... a slow smile spread across her lips. What if she asked him to be her plus one at the gala? She needed a date for it anyway. So she’d gauge his reaction to her query. Then she’d know, once and for all.
She took a breath. Now that she’d gotten that straightened out, she needed to focus on the letter at the library.
Hmm. Making the sympathetic stain was pretty straightforward. But that’s where the easy part ended.
She needed to apply the stain to the letter. Preferably, in a controlled environment.
But in order to make that happen, she’d have to talk to someone with authority at the archives division of the library, who could give permission for her and Jake to look at the letter again and apply the stain to it.
She tapped her phone against her chin.
She needed—of course. She’d start at the beginning. Kali had been in the museum world a long time, after all, and had all sorts of connections.
She looked down at her phone screen and winced. Kali had so much going on at the moment, she hated to bother the other woman. Then again, this interesting history-related distraction might cheer up her boss a little.
She dialed.
*
VANESSA STIFLED A YAWN as she headed back over to the main library branch early Friday morning. The conversation with Kali about the letter had gone well, and she’d been up pretty late the night before to make sure she’d had everything correct as she’d made the sympathetic stain formula.
As she approached the stone lions and saw Jake, her pulse jumped. He met her gaze and gave her a warm smile.
She returned it but just then, her phone rang. She tore her gaze from his and checked her phone screen. Oh. The head of New York Public Library’s manuscripts and archives division. “Hello? Vanessa speaking.”
“Vanessa, it’s Renee. We spoke yesterday. Just calling to confirm the schedule I’d outlined with you: since your request is so specialized and the library’s not yet open to the public today, I’ll be at the main doors there in about five minutes to let you in. Everything’s been set up for you.”
“Right. Sounds good. I’ve just arrived, so things are on target. Thank you.”
She slid her gaze to Jake again.
He leaned against the base of one of the lion statues and scrolled through his phone. The sleeves of his slate blue button-down were rolled up to his elbows. Steam rose from a takeout tray of coffees balanced on the ledge beside him. The film crew milled around nearby.
She ended the call and put the phone back into her purse.
Jake glanced up. “Hey there. Didn’t want to interrupt your call earlier but...” He put away his phone and reached for the takeout tray. “It’s pretty early, so I brought you this.”
Her heart fluttered as he handed her a latte. “Oh, thank you. Think I need this.” She took a sip—mmm, just the right amount of sweetening. “I feel like I’m taking advantage.” She laughed. “You keep buying me drinks.”
“Vanessa.” Jake put a hand on her arm and squeezed. His gaze lingered on her face. “The last thing you need to do is worry—I got you a latte because I wanted to.”
Butterflies swooped through her stomach at his expression. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t reply; instead, she just nodded, and gestured for him to go first as they continued to the entrance.
“Was that call good news?”
“Yes,” Vanessa replied as they headed toward the door. “The letter will be out and ready for us. They’ve prepped everything for us to look at it again.”
“Great. I have some good news myself. I found a possible lead here at the library yesterday that you might be interested in,” Jake said.
“What’s that?” Vanessa said as she adjusted the strap of her bag.
“You’d said you hadn’t known the name of the merchant’s shop at this address. Well,” he paused, “on this old map they had, I found the name of the merchant. He—“ But just then, a dark-haired woman appeared.
“Hello, Vanessa, Jake. I’m Renee. It’s nice to meet you both,” she said as she unlocked the door and held it for them, and the film crew. “Come on in.”
Vanessa’s pulse spiked as she stepped across the threshold. The answers they needed could be right here, in that letter.
As they headed up the stairs and into Room 328, Vanessa slipped on her gloves and slid Jake a glance. She walked over to the letter, which had been laid out on a table.
He was in conversation with a few of his crew members, and looked completely in his element. Vanessa’s gaze lingered on him as she recalled Melissa’s words.
But no. Vanessa’s chest tightened. She couldn’t just...outright ask him. She bit her lip. What was she thinking? She wasn’t bold like that. There was a reason she preferred the sidelines to the spotlight.
Her heart thudded.
But Jake would leave eventually. He had to. Right? He looked across the room at her and began to move toward her. She made herself look back down at the letter. She didn’t need to complicate her life, or tangle up her heart, in something like this.
She got out the beaker and other supplies she’d brought, and arranged them. Jake came up to the table, and stood nearby. She picked up the mixture that contained the sympathetic stain, which was in a small glass beaker next to the letter.
“You ready?” Jake murmured, his lips near her ear.
Tingles shot down the back of Vanessa’s neck at the warm caress of his breath against her skin. “Mmm-hmm,” she managed.
She picked up a cotton swab and forced her attention to the task at hand as she carefully dunked it into the liquid.
“So how does this work, exactly?” As Jake stood nearby, she felt his body heat like a physical touch.
“Well, from what I’ve read, the stain acts as a re-agent.” She applied the cotton swab to the antique paper and began to move it across the page in a systematic motion. “So wherever the invisible ink has been used, this counteracts that and, with the application of heat, it should make the message appear.” She bit her lip and glanced at him. “If there even is a secret message.”
He nodded. “What can I do to help?”
She jerked her chin in the direction of the small flashlight she’d placed nearby. “Can you pick that up, please, and then just hold onto it for a sec?”
“Sure. So was heat always used?” Jake reached for the flashlight she’d set on the table and clicked it on.
“As far as I know, either heat or a chemical called sodium carbonate is needed to reveal the words, so I figured a flashlight bulb would do the trick.”
“Ah. Okay, cool.”
For a second, as Vanessa’s eyes drifted back down to the handwriting in front of her, she imagined the woman writing the letter, in that blue moire gown, perhaps, sitting by a window at her writing desk, quill pen in hand, her heart filled with the hope of new love—
“You look a million miles away,” Jake murmured.
“Wha—? Oh,” Vanessa startled. “I was just wondering about 355. What did she look like? Was she happy? Did she have any brothers or sisters? You know, something that gives us a fuller picture of her life.”
“Well,” Jake said, “That’s part of the mystery we’re trying to unravel, here.”
Vanessa couldn’t help a sigh as she got to the bottom of the document. “We might never know the whole story.”
“But we’re beginning to build a more complete picture,” Jake reminded her.
“Good point. And maybe this will give us another piece of the puzzle to add to the exhibit,” Vanessa said. “Can you bring the flashlight closer?”
Jake did as she asked.
She held the page near enough the flashlight that the warmth would affect the antique paper.
Nothing happened.
Jake’s brow furrowed. “What’s supposed to happen?”
“Well, normally the message would appear when the—”
“Look at that!” Jake pointed to the third paragraph of the letter.
Vanessa’s heart leapt. Faint writing had appeared in the blank space between the third and fourth paragraph.
Jake stood so close their shoulders brushed. “We did it,” he whispered as he met her gaze. From this close, she could see shades of deeper indigo and emerald in his blue-green eyes. A slow smile spread across his lips.
Vanessa’s gaze lingered on his mouth. They were so close...Her heart squeezed. His sandalwood scent drifted to her. What would happen if she—No. Her eyes darted to the cameras. What was she thinking? She couldn’t think like this.
“We did.” She made herself look at the writing. “So what does it say?”
Jake’s brow furrowed. “It looks like some sort of... recipe?”
She put down the letter and then ran a gloved fingertip across the revealed words. “But a recipe for what?”
“Some sort of drink...” Jake scanned the lines.
She read over his shoulder. “Huh. It’s a recipe for drinking chocolate.” Vanessa began to pace. “So what does this mean?”
“Maybe we’re supposed to make it, drink it and find out.” Jake chuckled.
“As much as I love a good hot chocolate...” Vanessa looked at the recipe. She paced faster. “Back in the 18th century, Colonists who were opposed to the tea tax began to drink chocolate instead.”
“Okay,” Jake said as he studied the letter. “But why would that be such a big secret?” He ran a hand through his hair and his jaw tightened.
Vanessa shook her head. “I’m not really sure. It shouldn’t be. I mean, people all over the Colonies did it.”
“Then why bother to conceal that?” Jake’s brows drew together. “Especially in something like a love letter.” He tapped his foot. “This is getting more drawn out and complicated than I thought it would be.”
“Ugh, I know.” Vanessa rubbed her forehead. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Several minutes passed in silence. Jake drummed his fingers on his thigh.
“There has to be something that we’re missing here. But what?”
Jake groaned. “I have no idea.”
Vanessa kept pacing. The silence stretched.
Jake passed a hand across his face, his tone weary. “The first riddle pointed us to Rivington’s coffeehouse...”
Vanessa stopped pacing suddenly.
“Yes.” She spun on her heel to face him. “And,” she continued as her eyes widened, “this second piece of the puzzle here refers to something people could drink.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay...”
“What if we put those two things together?”
The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted and the sparkle returned to his eyes as he looked at her. “Impressive.”
Vanessa grinned at him. Her pulse spiked as he held her gaze. It was so much fun to unravel these clues, to explore an avenue of history that very few people had, and to do all that...together. Her breath caught as he continued to look at her.
“So.” Jake blinked and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s see what else we can dig up on Rivington.”
Jake typed in drinking chocolate and James Rivington. “Ah-ha.” He began to read aloud.
During his time as owner of Rivington’s Coffeehouse and as the publisher of The Royal Gazette, his popular establishment thrived. It developed a reputation as not only a gossip hotspot but also for excellent drinks.
Jake paused and angled the phone so Vanessa could see. She leaned in toward him to read the second paragraph over his shoulder.
Rivington’s brewed strong coffee; it also became known for serving drinking chocolate using bittersweet chocolate. In fact, it has been documented that patrons who liked to indicate their political leanings, would order chocolate instead of coffee as their beverage of choice.
“So where does that lead us—back to Rivington’s?”
Vanessa fiddled with a strand of her hair. “That’s a dead end.” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “And no one found anything besides the diary there, did they?”
“No.” Jake ruffled his hair. Vanessa watched the motion and couldn’t help but imagine what it might feel like under her fingertips.
“But...?” Vanessa caught the look in his eye.
“Remember that first line of the riddle?”
Vanessa nodded. “First taste of love is bittersweet.”
“They used bittersweet chocolate to make the recipe,” Jake said, “And we have a recipe here.”
“Right. So maybe this is about more than the chocolate recipe itself,” Vanessa said.
“What do you mean?”
“I think we’re confusing the forest and the trees. They made the drink at Rivington’s, yes... but what do you make hot chocolate in?”
“Boil water in a kettle. Same as what you make tea in.” Jake replied.
Instead of saying anything, Vanessa pulled out her phone, made a few keystrokes and then turned the phone so Jake could see too.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a sterling silver pot from the 1700s, designed specifically for making drinking chocolate. They didn’t have instant cocoa back then, so you had to mix together the milk, sugar, spices and grated chocolate yourself.” She pointed to the screen. “See how the lid has a hole in the middle? That’s for the paddle to fit through, and you agitated the handle to froth the contents. Then you’d end up with hot chocolate.”
“Interesting. So you’re suggesting we need to find a chocolate pot?”
“But not just any chocolate pot. We need the same one that Nathaniel and 355 used.”
*
JAKE WHISTLED. “THIS’LL be like looking for a needle in a haystack—” A slow grin spread across his face “—the kind of challenge I love best.”
“Just like that time you went off to Zanzibar to look for King Solomon’s lost mines, huh?”
“Wait...” Jake shoved one hand in his pocket and ducked his chin ever so slightly as he regarded her. “You saw that episode?”
“It’s my favorite one. So good.” Her eyes lit up. “That free-diving scene where you...” Vanessa’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, I mean.” She cleared her throat, brought her gaze back to his and finished her sentence with a simple, “Yes, I did.”
A buzz jolted through him at her words. People had complimented his show, said they were fans, before, of course. At conventions. At speaking events.
But somehow—his breath caught as his gaze lingered on Vanessa—having her say it felt like the very first time he’d ever heard it.
“Thank you,” he said quietly as he looked into her eyes.
She smiled she held his gaze. “You’re welcome.”
There was a beat of silence. Oops. They were still filming. He’d better say something professional-sounding.
“So, before we got onto the topic of this letter, I’d mentioned a bit of good news.”
“Right.” Vanessa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Something about a merchant.”
“Your museum was a tea merchant’s shop named Mason’s Teas & Fine Imports.”
“That’s amazing.” Vanessa grinned. “And the time period matched?”
Jake nodded. “Could mean 355’s last name was Mason.”
“It could...” Vanessa tilted her head. “We’ll have to do some research. It’s just conjuncture at this point, since we don’t have any solid evidence to back it up.”
“No, we don’t. But, ” he gestured toward the letter, “maybe this’ll give us a clue about that while we’re working on the chocolate pot angle. Any suggestions on where to look next?’
Vanessa tapped her forefinger against her chin. “I think we’ve done all we can here, so let’s head back to the museum. If I remember correctly, the Museum of the American Revolution in Philadelphia has a whole exhibit on sterling silver used during the war.” She picked up her bag. “We’ll start with a call to them.”
Vanessa and Jake thanked Renee and headed out of the library, the crew not far behind. Once they all got back to the museum, Vanessa made a beeline for the phone on her desk.
But a few minutes later, when she’d hung up, she turned to Jake. “The curator I know there said that they didn’t have any chocolate pots at the moment.” Her shoulders drooped.
Jake shook his head. “Maybe if we brainstorm every possible angle?”
But even after they did that, they were no closer to an answer.
“Hmm. Okay.” Jake clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to look at his calendar app with that looming deadline. “Maybe we need to narrow things down a bit more?” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. They had to figure this out. ”What if we confine our search to New York City?”
“Still a pretty big area,” Vanessa mused.
Jake scraped a hand across his stubble. “If we call all the museums within the New York metro area, we’re bound to come up with something—I hope.”
They spent the next hour making calls and scrolling through museum websites.
“Still nothing.” Vanessa sighed. “Needle in a haystack might be right.”
Jake jiggled his foot. “Let’s just keep—”
Suddenly, Vanessa’s desk phone rang. She picked up the receiver. “Hello? Vanessa speaking.”
Jake watched Vanessa cradle the phone against her shoulder as she picked up a pen and scribbled something down on a piece of paper. “Right. Okay. Thanks.” She hung up, her eyes bright as she looked at Jake.
Hope flared in his chest.
“That was my Philadelphia contact. She said she knows someone I can talk to at the Met.”
Finally, a breakthrough. “Awesome.”
Jake’s pulse spiked as he held her gaze. She loved this as much as he did, didn’t she? His stomach tightened. The gleam in her eye told him that yes, she definitely did.
His breath hitched. What would happen if he asked her to go with him after shooting this episode? Asked her to take that next adventure with him, set off to parts unknown...together? Heat filled him as she watched him. He had a feeling she just might say yes.
“Hey, Jake,” Bryce said from a few feet away. Jake tore his gaze away from Vanessa’s.
She took a hasty step around the desk and began to shuffle through papers.
Jake chose to ignore the ping of disappointment in his chest at her move. “What’s up?” He turned to Bryce.
“I’m just gonna fix some coffee. You guys want any?”
“I’m good.” He glanced at Vanessa, who shook her head.
Bryce started to turn away.
“But you knock any hidden treasure out of the wall in there, man, you’ll give me a cut, right?” Jake called after Bryce as he and a couple more on the team headed into the break room.
“Guess we could take a bit of a break, too.” Jake shifted his attention back to Vanessa. “How’s the exhibit coming along?”
Vanessa stopped her paper shuffling. “Good, actually. I’ve gotten the exhibit description all written up. Now I’m working on numbering the artifacts and drawings, and some other stuff that’ll actually be on display for people to see.”
“Oh cool. Glad it’s going well.” Jake said in a warm tone. “What about the gala?”
“Well, the tickets have all sold. And there seems to be a decent amount of interest in the silent auction, which takes place at the gala.”
“Great to hear.”
“But,” she twirled a strand of hair around her finger, “I’ve been thinking... “ She paused. “If this all leads somewhere...”
Jake held his breath.
“... it’d be fun to do a whole exhibit focused just on Agent 355. Even add in the earrings my grandmother gave me.”
“That’d be fantastic.”
“Thanks. I—”
“Jake!” Bryce called from the break room, “I think you should get in here.”
*
JAKE AND VANESSA EXCHANGED a look on the threshold of the break room as Bryce held up some old-looking papers.
“I’m having deja vu all over again.” Jake winked at Vanessa as she glanced from Jake to Bryce, and back to Jake.
“More pages?” She took a step toward Bryce.
“Looks like it,” he said.
“I thought we got everything out of there,” Jake murmured.
“Guess not quite.” Bryce shrugged. “Another stone loosened somehow. In fact there’s still more loose mortar here.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “But I’ve been at too many locations with you not to expect the unexpected.”
Jake laughed. “True.”
“Don’t move,” Vanessa replied. “I’ll be right back.”
A moment later, Vanessa came back into the room with her gloves. She assessed the antique papers then looked up at Jake, her eyes bright. “They’re more diary entries.”
“From 355?”
Vanessa nodded and angled the paper so Jake could read it too.
11 June 1780
Though it pains me greatly to record this, I must have somewhere to relieve my burdened heart. Father has, this night, formally given his permission for Lord C—m to court me.
I fear his attentions are rather...ardent, and that marriage is on his mind. But I take some comfort in bringing Nathaniel’s face, as well as the Cause, to mind even as I make polite conversation with Lord C—m.
He tells me of his achievements and his position as Royal Navy commander. Indeed, tonight he seemed to talk of nothing else. Most fortunate. He must assume it impresses me. No doubt the quantity of sherry he consumed, coupled with his incorrect assumptions about his present company, effected his lack of caution.
Little does he know how this plays into the favor of the Patriots, for he let slip that the British know of the French fleet set to land at Newport. I am sure 711 will make good use of this.
“711?” Jake slid a glance to Vanessa.
“General Washington’s code number designation.”
“Oh, right. I didn’t think she was referring to Slurpees in that sentence, but I just wanted to make sure.”
Vanessa swatted Jake’s arm.
“So she’s openly admitting here,” Jake said, “that she’s using this guy to pass information on to Washington and the Patriots.”
“Right,” Vanessa said. “And it looks like her father approved of the match, since he was the one to introduce them.”
“Probably wanted to make sure his daughter married a nice Loyalist. But what’s this about the British finding out a French fleet was landing at Newport?”
“I don’t know every detail of every Revolutionary battle, so let’s see here.” Vanessa turned to her phone’s search engine.
“Okay. According to this online article, after the Colonists got France on their side, a French fleet was sent to Newport, Rhode Island to drop off troops there. But because the British occupied New York, they had control of Long Island Sound.”
“And Newport’s above Long Island,” Bryce added.
“Yep,” Vanessa said. “After the British found out about the French fleet, they planned to intercept it before the French troops could land.”
“But it looks like 355 tipped Washington off to that fact,” Jake said.
“Exactly.” Vanessa grinned. “Thanks to this Lord C guy.”
“You know,” Jake said, “I wonder if we looked him up, he might point us to more clues about 355’s identity?”
“Good idea. Let’s make a note of that.” Jake said, as he pulled up the sticky notes app on his phone. He turned back to the letter. “But why didn’t she just write out this Lord C’s name?”
“Would’ve been convenient for us, wouldn’t it? But that was a pretty common practice back then. Usually happened in letters; in fact, in some of Washington’s correspondence, he uses the abbreviation C—r to mean Culper.”
“Huh.”
“And from time to time you see this type of abbreviation in journals and such. If the person knew who they were referring to, they didn’t bother writing in the full name sometimes.”
“Makes sense. What’s on the other page?”
4 July 1780
Though I told Father I met with Sally at Rivington’s, I confess I met Nathaniel instead, as he works there from time to time. And, oh, he has introduced me to the most divine of delicious treats—drinking chocolate. I have never before tasted anything so rich and heady. Unless, of course, one counts the taste of her true love’s kiss. But a lady does not speak of such things...
He requested the beverage specially then whispered in my ear of its secret meaning among those of the Cause. Rivington even uses a specific chocolate pot for the purpose.
I know that I shall always, from this day forward, be unable to partake of that beverage without also thinking of him.
’Tis preferable to thinking of Lord C—m, though he has done his best to infringe upon my thoughts. At our most recent meeting, he boasted of his latest capture: Cignet. I’m told the French frigate now sits in New York harbor awaiting a refit.’ Twill be renamed the Swan and flies the British colors.
I had half a mind to inquire as to the whereabouts of my worsted wool amongst its cargo, but I imagine the Royal Navy has made good use of my material.
He did regale me, too, with the wonders of the ship’s hold, including a mahogany chest, which contained a cache of the largest pearls he’d ever seen. But when I pressed him, he remarked upon my love of such baubles, then claimed to know not if the cache still resides there.
Those pearls were intended for 711, to provide funds to bolster the Cause.
I have made it known to 721 that I shall stop at nothing to obtain as much information as I can as to the current whereabouts of the cache, and do my part to retrieve it.
Jake met Vanessa’s gaze. “Now we have proof 355 was definitely involved with the pearls,” he said.
“And it looks like she never got the material to make the flag,” Vanessa said.
“Which is how she must’ve decided to use her own cloak,” Jake added.
Vanessa nodded then pointed to the letter. “And here, she talks about a specific chocolate pot at Rivington’s. We were right.” She scanned the lines again. “Do you think she used that specific one to somehow pass a message on to Washington or other Culper members about the pearls?”
“Only one way to answer that.”
*
MID-MORNING SATURDAY, as Jake’s rented Land Rover headed along Route 25A out east toward Setauket, Long Island, Vanessa watched the sunlight as it filtered through the trees, glad to focus on the open space outside the vehicle.
But she couldn’t help admiring that same light glint off Jake’s wavy brown hair and highlight the gold undertones as he drove. Her heart gave a double-beat. That teal blue shirt was a good color on him.
She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and pulled her eyes back to the road ahead, as she tried to ignore just how close together they were sitting.
Vanessa fidgeted with her seatbelt strap for a moment before she took her phone out and absently flicked through the apps. She hoped Jake didn’t notice her nervousness. Then again, it wasn’t every day she was alone in a vehicle for two hours with her celebrity crush. She hid a grin.
Jake pushed his aviator sunglasses up and then downshifted as they slowed for an intersection.
“Huh, I hadn’t realized that,” Jake murmured.
“What’s that?” Vanessa looked up from her phone.
He indicated a small brown highway sign. “See that white carriage silhouette?”
“Oh yeah, it says Washington’s Spy Trail. I didn’t realize this road had a nickname. Makes sense, though. Culper members must’ve used this route to travel back and forth between the city and Setauket.”
Just then, Vanessa’s phone dinged. She checked the calendar notification. Final seating arrangements meeting @ 4 p.m. today. Right. She’d almost forgotten.
“This is a nice change of scene from the city,” Vanessa commented.
“It is, but I might be a tad biased. I’m actually from the East Coast myself.”
“New York state?”
“Nope. A tiny town up in Maine,” Jake said.
“Oh yeah? I haven’t been much past the L.L. Bean store in Freeport, out that way.”
“I get all my camping gear there,” Jake said.
They drove awhile in companionable silence as Vanessa watched the trees and houses roll by.
Finally, Jake said, “We’re getting near Setauket. Where did your contact at the Met tell you this woman’s house was, again?” Jake adjusted his grip on the leather-wrapped steering wheel. He glanced at Vanessa then at the in-dash GPS. “I swear, this thing has a mind of its own. I think it’s probably broken.”
Vanessa double-checked her phone then read the address to Jake before she craned her neck to look around. “So my contact, Cindy, said Rhonda Miller’s was on the right, oh, just off the highway here.”
Jake slowed and signaled.
“Wait, maybe it’s the next right? Uh...” She reread the address. “No, no, it’s here. I think.”
Jake made a right onto the quieter street Vanessa indicated. “Okay.”
“...And then there’ll be a red mailbox on the opposite side of the street—” she sat back “—which I don’t see anywhere.”
She gave a frustrated sigh and put her hands in the lap of her khaki capris. “I’m hopeless with directions. I get so turned around out here.”
“And this thing keeps telling me to make a U turn.” Jake chuckled. “Technology. Why doesn’t it work right when you need it?” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “But we’ll find it.”
Vanessa’s gaze drifted to Jake’s hands. How many places had he navigated from the driver’s seat of an SUV? Nepal...Ghana...What if Jake reached across the console and put his hand on her knee, his palm warm, his fingers strong, sure—
No. She tore her mind away from the daydream and fiddled with the hem of her yellow T-shirt. He was leaving. She couldn’t do this to herself. “Let’s hope. It’s our only good lead,” Vanessa replied. “Cindy mentioned the Met’s installation of Revolutionary War silver was donated by Rhonda Miller’s husband. He collected chocolate pots, and that was where they’d gotten their original donation.”
Vanessa looked out the window. “Hmm, I still don’t see the right house.” She checked the address again. “Unless it was supposed to be that next street...”
They drove a ways farther, around a slight bend in the road. As they rounded it, Jake lifted a finger off the wheel and pointed. “I see a red mailbox up ahead. Think this is the house, across the street here.”
Two huge oak trees stood on either side of a two storey Federal-style home painted a light blue. It had bright white trim and a shiny brass knocker in the middle of a red front door.
Vanessa peered through the windshield as the vehicle came to a stop a few moments later by one of the large oaks.
Jake cut the engine. She caught a whiff of his sandalwood cologne as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
Vanessa wound a strand of her hair around her finger and said with a laugh. “Sorry about that. I’m not the best navigator.”
Instead of replying, Jake fished something out of one of the small zippered pockets on the sleeve of his safari shirt.
She noticed the way the cotton stretched across his chest when he held out the item to her in his open palm. A compass.
Her heartbeat sped up when he met her gaze as the needle pointed to N.
“No worries. We’re not lost.” Then he winked as he reached for his door handle and said, “Let’s do this.”
She fumbled for her own door handle, then stepped out and shut the door.
“Hello there,” a female voice called.
A woman with thick black hair woven into a French braid came around the side of the house.
She looked to be in her mid-sixties, and she wore a pair of sturdy bright yellow gardening gloves. She carried a set of pruning sheers in one hand, and pushed back the brim of her straw hat with the other, before she waved at them.
“Hi there.” Jake called back and strode over to greet her. Just then, Bryce and the crew pulled up in the equipment van behind Jake’s Land Rover. They parked, quickly got out and followed Jake.
As Jake shook hands, Vanessa took in the rest of the scenery. More large oak and maple trees surrounded the back of the property, and the house was situated on a large sloping lot.
So near New York but so peaceful out here, too. Vanessa took a deep breath of the fresh air and stretched. Her fingertips brushed the rough bark of one of the oak trees they’d parked near, and she tilted her head to look at it.
Must be three hundred years old, at least. It was absolutely huge. She craned her neck to look farther up the leafy green canopy.
As she did, she noticed a sort of indentation in the bark just above her eye level and frowned. Was something carved into the wood?
She took a step closer. Yes. It looked like...She cocked her head and brushed her fingers across it. Initials, with...was that a heart around it?
She slowly traced the slightly crooked heart shape, and the initials inside.
“H.M. + N.W.,” she murmured under her breath. “Huh.”
But she was getting sidetracked. She stepped around the tree. She’d better stop lollygagging and get over to the house.
She saw Jake and company standing near the front steps, talking to Rhonda. Looked like he was explaining a few filming details to her.
Jake glanced over at Vanessa as she approached. “Didn’t get lost, did you?” His eyes sparkled.
“Not this time.”
“Vanessa, this is Rhonda Miller.” Jake indicated the older woman.
“Nice to meet you, Vanessa. You must be who Cindy mentioned.”
“Yes, I work for the Women of the American Revolution Museum in the city.” Vanessa smiled.
“Well, let’s not stand around on the steps. I have far more comfortable places inside. Come in.” Rhonda opened the door and walked into the front hall.
A little while later, they’d all assembled in the living room, which had a picture window and a view of the side yard. Black-eyed Susans and butterfly milkweed bloomed in neat rows around some weathered statuary and snowball bushes.
“Your yard is lovely,” Vanessa commented. She sat near Jake on the long low white couch.
“Oh, thank you,” Rhonda said from a matching armchair opposite. “My late husband always used to say for every flower I planted, he’d get to collect another piece of Revolutionary silver.”
Jake leaned forward and Vanessa felt the couch cushions move ever so slightly under her as he did.
“Speaking of,” Jake said, “how did your husband get into that? You’d mentioned he had a few chocolate pots?”
Rhonda laughed. “Several, yes. He donated a lot of his silver collection to the Museum of the American Revolution, but he passed away suddenly last year. So he never got a chance to do anything with his chocolate pots.” She looked back and forth between Vanessa and Jake. “But I understand you two might want to take a look at them?”
“Yes, please.” Vanessa shared a glance with Jake.
“It just might change history if they do,” Bryce chimed in.
“Well,” Rhonda said, as she got to her feet, “who am I to get in the way of that? It’s just down here.”
They followed her as she walked to a door at the end of the hall. She took a key from her pocket and fit it into a substantial-looking lock. The door swung open and she stepped inside.
The crew followed, and the lighting guy scurried past Rhonda to arrange reflectors.
Once things had been fully set up, Jake and Vanessa walked into the room.
Jake let out a long, low whistle as he looked around the room. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This is incredible.”
Rhonda laughed. “What can I say?”
Every flat surface was covered with some sort of chocolate pot.
“They’re everywhere.” Vanessa’s eyes widened. “You could start your own museum, you have so many.”
“I could,” Rhonda folded her arms across her chest. “Take as long as you like. And if you have any questions, I’m happy to try and answer them. Though I can’t guarantee I’ll know what you might want to find out.”
Jake chuckled in disbelief and shook his head as Vanessa came over to him. “I feel like I’m in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.”
“At least there aren’t some Nazis lurking.”
“And I’m pretty sure I’m not going to die if I don’t pick the right one.” Jake ran a finger down the spout of the nearest pot. He pressed his lips together for a moment. “But the show’s future is riding on this. So let’s get to work.”
After a second, he added, “So how are we going to figure out which one Nathaniel and 355 used?”
“That’s an excellent question...” Vanessa paused and thought a moment. “Let’s keep a watch for details specific to the 18th century.”
“A good place to start.”
But three hours later, they’d barely made a dent in the collection. “All these different eras are mixed together. We need some way to narrow things down even more,” Vanessa muttered to herself and tapped her finger against her bottom lip.
She darted a glance toward—then away—from the cameras. Best to keep pretending she wasn’t being filmed.
Jake closed his eyes a moment and a frown line appeared between his brows. He rubbed his shoulders and slowly exhaled.
Rhonda stuck her head back into the room. “How’s it going?”
Vanessa turned to Rhonda. “Did your husband have some sort of...cataloging system for all of this?”
The older woman shook her head. “I actually really don’t know. I never specifically asked him. Between me and you, honestly I wouldn’t know one chocolate pot from another.”
Jake had just set down an elaborately carved chocolate pot with an ivory handle when Rhonda spoke again. “But I do know that my husband’s most recent acquisitions are those pots over in that far corner.” She gestured. “He’d acquired them just before he passed. I remember he made a comment, something about them being specially made in the Colonies.”
Jake and Vanessa exchanged a look and headed over to the far corner.
Vanessa picked up the first pot and examined it. “Looks pretty fancy. Then again, they’re all starting to look alike.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Jake gave a theatrical groan.
“This really could be a needle in a haystack.” Vanessa massaged her temples. “Maybe Nathaniel meeting with Agent 355 at Rivington’s has nothing to do with any of this.” She waved a hand to indicate the room.
Jake put a hand on her shoulder. “Eventually, we’ll work our way through the whole collection,” he said, a determined set to his jaw. “I’d think there has to be some indication of something.”
The man never quit, did he? Vanessa’s heart swelled. His optimistic determination was endearing—something else about him, she realized with a jolt, that she’d really come to appreciate. “Right.” Vanessa gave a firm nod as she picked up another pot and examined it.
“Sorry,” Rhonda said. “but did you say Nathaniel?”
Vanessa nodded then explained what they were doing and what they’d already uncovered.
“A man by the name of Nathaniel Wheeler was the grandson of the very first owner of this place. In fact, Nathaniel moved into this house right around the time that the Revolution started. I actually donated a few papers I’d found of his to a museum in Morristown, New Jersey.”
Vanessa propped a hand on her hip. “His initials would be N.W., wouldn’t they?”
Rhonda nodded.
A speculative look came into Vanessa’s eyes and she glanced at Jake. “I think we’ll want to see that big oak out front.”
Jake put down the pot he held and they all followed Rhonda out the front door.
Rhonda walked over to the huge oak that Vanessa had seen when she’d arrived.
“This tree,” Rhonda said, “has been here since about 1760. Apparently it was planted by the first family who lived here.”
“Wow.” Jake placed a palm on the tree.
“So when you said Nathaniel,” Rhonda continued, “well,” she indicated the initials carved into the trunk. “This carving has been here since the Revolution. It’s actually what sold me on the property.”
“Why’s that?” Vanessa asked.
“Because the story I always heard was that his lover...” she tapped the H.M. initials, “was supposed to be Agent 355.”
*
JAKE SAW VANESSA PULL up the notes app on her phone. Must be for her exhibit research
“From the preliminary research I’ve done,” Vanessa said, “I haven’t been able to find any connection between that tea merchant’s name and 355. Rhonda, do you know if the M in these initials stands for the last name Mason?” Her fingers flew across the screen. .
“Unfortunately, I don’t know what either initial stands for. No one I’ve talked to over the years seems to, either.”
“Oh.” Vanessa made a few final notations then lowered her phone.
“But isn’t that romantic? Their initials are still here after more than 200 years.” Rhonda patted the tree trunk. “Reminds me of my own marriage.”
Jake flexed his fingers against the rough bark of the oak. Wait a second. He looked up at the engraved trunk, then around the property. What if they’d been going about this in entirely the wrong way, and a clue was hidden outside? His heartbeat sped up.
He turned to Rhonda. “Do you have a spare shovel?”
*
“I’VE GOT A HIT OVER here,” Jake called to Bryce. The low, long beep of the metal detector made Jake’s pulse race. If he was right...
Vanessa snatched up the shovel before Jake could move.
Jake grinned at her then pointed at the ground near the base of the oak. “Let’s try right about here. As close as possible to the target.” He swept the metal detector again over the grass, just to make sure. The long, low beep sounded again, in the exact same spot—right by his foot.
“Dig here?” Vanessa said, her focus intent, completely oblivious to Bryce filming not far away.
“Yep.”
The shovel bit into the neatly manicured lawn. Jake knelt beside Vanessa and they carefully upended the chunk of sod, making sure not to displace any of the grass.
Jake reached into the pack Bryce had brought over earlier, and pulled out a hand-held detector.
“What’s that?” Vanessa said as she put aside the shovel.
“Now that we’ve displaced the dirt, it’ll pinpoint things more specifically.”
“Handy,” Vanessa commented as she took a trowel and glanced at Jake. He waved the hand-held device and it emitted a sharp sustained beep about three-quarters of the way down into the hole they’d dug.
“Right over here,” Jake commented. “I can dig if you want.”
“Not a chance,” Vanessa tightened her grip on the trowel.
“Looks like you’ve discovered a new passion,” Jake quipped as he held her gaze.
She looked at him from under her lashes. “I think I have.” Vanessa slid the trowel into the earth and turned over a few scoops. Just dirt.
“How come nothing’s coming up?” She sat back on her heels.
“The detector says there’s something, so there’s something. Just gotta be patient,” Jake murmured. “Trust me, I’ve done this enough. Sometimes it’s deeper than you think.”
Vanessa nodded. Handed him the trowel. “I’ll leave this in the hands of an expert, then.”
“Oh, I see how this is working. Now you give it to me?” Jake teased.
Vanessa laughed.
A moment later, there was a clunk of metal hitting metal. Jake raised his eyes to Vanessa’s. Her eyes widened. His heart pounded.
“The moment of truth,” he said as Vanessa leaned forward to help him brush away the dirt. They worked for several minutes in silence, and the buzz of adrenaline coursed through Jake.
“Look at that,” he murmured, as a long, cylindrical shape was revealed.
“That must be...” Vanessa cocked her head.
“Yep,” he said between clenched teeth as he tugged it free, “it’s a chocolate pot.”