The Hardest Treasure - Sneak Peek

 Chapter One

Grace Decker did not love easily. Not the ballet lessons she quit after a week. Not the toys she’d cuddled as a young child. Not any of the prestigious schools she attended throughout earning her doctorate. She loved her fathers, and she loved history. But this feeling was something new. Exciting. Proud. A well-earned love for her new job. She was now the Collections Curator for the Museum of Natural History in New York City. Her dream for as long as she had dreams.

Organizing the collections, researching and educating, even designing the exhibits were all up to her. She led a team, of course, but there were very few people to answer to now except the board and Director Mark Lang, who was technically in charge of everyone. But Grace never wanted to be the director. She had no interest in being the public liaison for the museum, too much scrutiny. This job allowed her to do what she did best, learn and care about history.

She organized her office for optimal functionality, with a bit of celebratory dancing as she worked while Spotify played the Hamilton soundtrack on a loop. There was a reason she had quit ballet, but no one was watching her now. She was entitled to a bit of fun.

Her awards were packed carefully, along with her framed degrees and certificates. She placed a picture of her with her dads from three Christmas’s ago near the desk organizer. They moved out of the city four years ago, and it was harder and harder to find the time to travel. They were the reason she loved this museum so much. Her dads used to take her here all the time, even though their passion was not for relics—her fathers loved cars and the outdoors—they had seen the spark in her on the first visit and had taken her as often as they could spare ever since. Grace was more at home here than anywhere.

A knock interrupted her work. 

“Yes?” Grace adjusted her suit. It was tailored, the only time she’d ever commissioned a suit for herself, but this was a big week, and her new salary could handle the price. After today, though, it was back to comfort over fashion with work-appropriate blouses and elastic in the waistband.

Her secretary answered, Alina Kendal—she was competent but a bit too eager to please— “Dr. Decker? There’s someone here to see you, but they don’t have an appointment.”

“Ah,” Grace had not been curator long enough to establish her schedule; not having an appointment wasn’t out of place. “That’s fine, Kendal; you can show them in.” She sat at her desk, with her name and pictures and everything, and tried to assume a dignified pose.

A woman was shown in, her clothes not office appropriate by any standard. Jeans that had some fray around the seams tucked into sturdy-looking boots. The woman was lean, very little curve or fat to fill out the tank-top under an opened button-up. Her hair was short, still feminine, but in a way that suggested she didn’t want to be bothered with upkeep. She reached out to shake, and Grace got a weird chill up her spine. Not…a good kind. Though the woman looked perfectly pleasant, despite her attire. With soft eyes and easy smile, it was hard to pinpoint why she made Grace uneasy.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Grace Decker, the new curator.”

The woman nodded along, taking in the office. “New? Congratulations.”

Grace smiled, flattered despite her misgivings. She was really proud. She adjusted her glasses, carefully angling the thick black frames her dad had always complained: “hid the beauty in her eyes.” Why would she need beauty? She had a museum to manage.

“Well, Miss…what can I do for you?”

“Oh, it’s just Kate, thanks. And I was admiring your collection downstairs for the better part of today.” Kate slouched a bit in her seat, her tone suggesting she was not from any sort of corporate world. 

Grace frowned, unsure what this meeting could possibly be about and growing anxious that she hadn’t learned the reason yet. “I’m glad you’re enjoying our collection. I’m quite proud of it and hope to maintain the standards our generous patrons have grown used to over the years.”

“Well,” Kate shifted again, “Here’s the thing, I was really captivated by one display, an old journal. Probably nothing super significant, the date on the display was an estimation, and there was no real clue as to who wrote the thing. So I was curious how much an artifact like that might go for, say if a private buyer were interested.”

Grace’s jaw dropped open. She couldn’t help it. Was this woman, who looked like she had wandered in from a trek through the Amazon, asking to buy an artifact from the Museum of Natural History? This was her first day in the office. Her third since gaining the position. She was not prepared for questions like this. 

“I…” what should she say? That the question was insane? She had to be tactful. Professional. “I appreciate your interest in our displays, but I’m afraid the items are not for sale.”

“Name a price.”

“None.” Grace paused and then continued with a bit more patience. “I’m sorry, we don’t sell to private buyers. Our artifacts and treasures have to go through a very extensive process before they can even begin to be considered for selling, and, at that point, it would go to auction. It cannot be sold to a private party.”

The woman was quiet, the smile gone. She ran a finger around her lips, staring at Grace like she was debating on what to do next. Like one of those options might include violence. Grace desperately wished she had stuck with karate for more than a month. She had no way to defend herself. She wasn’t exactly strong, and these clothes were constricting. And the heels! She was never wearing heels again. Flats would have to do.

Grace waited, watching the woman nod again. “I have a very interested party who wants to buy that book. I’ll let you think about it.”

Think? “I’m sorry, but there—”

Kate stood. “Think about it.” She smiled and gave a small salute. “Have a pleasant day.”

Grace watched her leave, breathing fast. She put a hand to her chest as the woman disappeared from view. She needed a drink. And a nap. 

It wasn’t even noon yet, and she still had her actual job to see to, managing the museum. Grace sat in her office in silence for a few moments. She needed to clear her head. Nothing calmed her like a walk through the Museum, and, well, it was technically her museum now—as far as the exhibits and everything in it was concerned—so if she wanted to walk through, she was going to walk through it. Her first board meeting wasn’t until three; she had plenty of time.

“Kendal,” Kendal popped into view, close enough to see each freckle against her pallid complexion. Grace startled, taking a step back. “Kendal, I’ll be on the floor if anyone else comes looking for me. Although, please, from now on, maybe give me warning if the person looks like they’re Indiana Jones.”

Kendal nodded, then frowned. “Who, ma’am?”

“Forget it.” She wandered through the museum, admiring both the exhibits and the patrons. Seeing the excitement in a young child’s face when they saw something new and big and ancient. People staring into paintings for minutes without moving, connecting with something from so long ago. It was magical. Her journey led her—or perhaps she had been moving there with a purpose—to the artifact of interest. 

It was just a journal. Nothing special and practically buried amidst other, more impressive treasures. A man was admiring the piece, hands in his pockets and a deep frown on his face. She only took note because he was rather handsome. Her heart fluttered in her chest, but she was determined not to be deterred in her path. Besides, if she lost her cool at every attractive man she met, she wouldn’t have lasted through college.

The man put a hand over his mouth, his frown deepening. Grace hid a small smile. It was very adorable. 

“It’s a unique piece,” she said, though she wished she hadn’t. She was not one to flirt or make idle conversation, but he looked so intent and upset over an old journal. The dating tests they did placed it at nearly 300 years ago. No discernible language, and it was possibly just a random person’s thoughts. Most would not deem it super important. Unless they loved history and the thought of connecting with the mundane of centuries ago. Like she did.

The man turned to her, and he was indeed beautiful. Gold hair styled and well groomed. Clothes that fit a nicely toned frame. His frown suddenly transformed, and Grace was nearly blinded by the dazzle of it. When he smiled, he was gorgeous. 

“Yes, quite unique,” he said.

Grace had lost her words. She fumbled for a moment before she could mutter, “So much interest in a simple journal.”

He was closer now like he had teleported to her side. She had not seen him move. “Interest?”

“Yes, there was a woman here just a few moments ago trying to buy this piece,” she laughed at the absurdity. “Of course, that’s not how it’s done, but I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of a patron strolling into the curator’s office and asking to buy a priceless artifact.”

“Curator?” His face changed, and his eyes skimmed over her in a way that made her feel very naked. She adjusted her glasses. “I never got your name, Miss.”

“Dr,” she corrected firmly, “Dr. Grace Decker, I’m the curator here, and I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll let you get back to your day.” She needed to retreat. Something had shifted, and she didn’t like it. He was too handsome, and she was…well, it had been a long time since a face had made her want to giggle. Or since a man had tried to flatter her. This business with the journal was getting too weird.

He was all charm when he spoke, “It is a pleasure, Dr. Decker. I’m Atticus.”

Grace nodded politely, trying to retreat tactfully, but was cut off by his chest moving directly into her path. She was starting to wonder how he possibly moved so fast without ruffling a single hair out of place or breathing heavy. 

“Did you get the name of the woman interested in the journal?”

Grace was getting a headache. “I don’t…even if I did, why would I tell you? I don’t even understand why such a weird interest in some random nobody’s diary.”

“Journal.” Atticus corrected, frowning.

“Whatever.” She threw up her hands, officially out of tact. “Forgive me, but this is absurd. You’re a good-looking, clearly wealthy man in, what, his early thirties?”

Atticus put his hands in his pockets. “Give or take.”

“You’re the complete opposite of the woman that came to see me earlier, and yet both of you share a strange infatuation with this book. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t like when things don’t make sense. It’s my first day in my new office, and I would very much like things to make sense.” She took a breath, noting the drawing stares. Heavens, what was going on today? She was having terrible luck. She wanted to run home and hide under her covers.

His charming smile melted into one more…real. He was probably just sorry for her because she was now the one who appeared unhinged. His eyes were still kind, though they seemed to look through her and gather all her secrets. “Dr. Decker, I’m sorry to have upset you.”

Grace waved it away, knowing she was the one at fault. She needed to be the bigger person. “That’s quite alright; it’s…I’m just a bit nervous today. That’s all. I apologize for my outburst. Please. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He did not block her this time, and she was grateful. Though she felt his gaze follow her until she disappeared around a corner. What on earth was going on today? And why did it have to happen now?