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Acton/Palmer Residence
St. Paul, Maryland
Present Day

 

“What has you so excited?”

Archaeology Professor James Acton rushed past his wife, Archaeology Professor Laura Palmer. “We’re going to Stockholm.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Sweden?”

“Unless they moved it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s in Sweden?”

Acton shrugged as he pulled his suitcase from the closet. “Delicious meatballs and beautiful blondes?”

She grunted. “You better be focusing on the meatballs, mister.”

He flashed her a toothy smile. “I’ll be focusing on the ring that Viggo just discovered adorning the finger of a woman named Fatima, wife of Viking Prince Magnus, buried with honors—a runestone marking the site—and with an inscription on the ring.”

Laura rose from her perch in the corner, putting down her eReader, now giving him her full attention. “What did it say?”

“One ring to rule them all—”

“I’m going to boot you in the Swedish meatballs if you don’t tell me.”

He angled his boys away from her on instinct. “For Allah.”

Her eyes shot wide. “Bloody hell! She was Muslim?”

“Yes! At least it appears so. I assume they’ll do DNA testing to at least see where she was originally descended from.”

Laura fetched her own suitcase then paused. “Wait. That doesn’t make sense. Muslims don’t wear wedding bands.”

Acton nodded. “Right, but they do wear engagement rings.”

“So, this was an engagement ring.”

Acton shrugged. “I assume so.”

“Then what is a Viking doing giving his bride-to-be an Islamic engagement ring?”

Acton stood straight, his head cocked to the side as he thought for a moment. “Huh. Good question. And I’m sure we’ll come up with dozens more by the time we get there.”

Laura resumed packing. “It was nice of him to invite you. When was the last time you saw him?”

Acton removed a pair of shorts he had tossed in the suitcase, remembering where it was he was going, and what time of year it was. “Five years? Maybe six? It was his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, so whenever that was.”

Laura zipped up her suitcase. “I win.” She winked at him then sat on the bed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “I’ll arrange a plane. You should tell Greg that we’re leaving town. You have a class to teach on Tuesday.”

Acton shook his head. “We’ll just pop over, spend a few days, then head back. I’m just curious to see the site and what they’ve found. If we end up staying longer, I’ll let Greg know.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She held up a finger, her call to their travel agent answered, a private plane quickly arranged through their lease-share network. Acton was a poor professor, but Laura, though a professor as well, was anything but. Her late brother had made a fortune selling his Internet business shortly before his death, and had left everything to her.

She was worth more than he could fathom, though one would never know it to see her. She, like him, lived a modest lifestyle, using her—their—money to make travel more comfortable and frequent than the average person could afford, funding their own archaeological dig sites when necessary, helping friends in need, and desperate though deserving students. They lived in his humble home bought before they met, and she still had her flat in London for when they were in England.

There were no yachts, no estates, and no gold cutlery in the kitchen drawers.

Life was simple, though with none of the restrictions most faced. Life was good, though if they were dirt poor, it still would be so long as she was at his side.

Laura put the phone down. “Everything’s arranged. We can still have dinner with Tommy and Mai tonight, then catch our plane and be there in the morning, local time. We’ll spend two days rewriting history, then be back before anyone knows we were gone.”

Acton frowned. “We need more friends.”

Laura pshawed. “I’d rather have the few good friends we have, than dozens of shallow acquaintances.”

Acton chewed his cheek. “I suppose.” His eyes widened. “Maybe on our way back we can pop in and see Hugh.”

Laura smiled at the prospect of seeing their old friend, Hugh Reading, a former Scotland Yard Detective Chief Inspector who had tried to arrest them when they first met. Now an Interpol Agent based in London, he had become a dear friend over the years. “That’s a wonderful idea. But we’ll definitely be late, then.”

Acton sighed. “Stupid job, always getting in the way.”

Laura laughed. “You can always quit. It’s not like we need the money.”

He eyed her. “I’ll quit the day you quit.”

She lay down on the bed, propping her head up with an elbow. “You’re right. We’d both be miserable without our careers.”

“I think I could live without the career, but I could never give up my students.”

Laura sighed, and Acton knew why. She had given up a lot to move to Maryland and live with him after they got married. She still occasionally taught at her old school in London, though only as a guest lecturer, and her new position at the Smithsonian hardly filled the void, her time with students limited. There was nothing like standing at the front of a classroom with kids that were empty vessels to fill with knowledge.

He smiled at her as he zipped up his suitcase. “Regrets?”

She chuckled. “I’ve had a few?”

He hopped on the bed, scooching over to be closer. “How about we remind each other why being separated by thousands of miles was interfering with our sex life.”

She pushed him onto his back and rolled on top of him. “You’ve got two hours to remind me, then we have to start dinner.”

Acton’s eyes widened. “Two hours? I’m an old man, remember.”

She leaned closer. “I’m not.” She kissed him, and he opened his mouth slightly, his heart already hammering with excitement.

Thank God for that!