Gwen slid the photo back into the file folder and reclined in her chair. “Well. This is certainly interesting.” She gazed across her desk at Peter. “Is this why you got the book deal? Because the publisher believes you might have uncovered a scandalous family secret that would shock the world and create a bestseller?”
Peter inclined his head. “Scarlett Fontaine was America’s sweetheart. She was a flawless, innocent Hollywood princess who could do no wrong. You have to admit it’s a bombshell.”
Gwen tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling. “I knew it. What did I say before? A trashy tell-all.”
“No,” he insisted, shaking his head. “That’s not my intention at all.”
“But how can this be good for Scarlett’s memory?” she asked, meeting his gaze again.
“No one’s perfect,” he replied with a shrug.
Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Part of me wants to ask you to leave, but I know you’ll just walk out of here and write whatever you please about Scarlett, as long as it sells books.”
“That’s not true,” he argued. “I’m here to do research. I’m looking for facts, and I’ll be citing every source.”
Gwen nodded with a feeling of defeat. “Okay. As I said, you’re welcome to search through the archives, but I guarantee you won’t find any references to Alaska. If there was something there, I would know about it.”
“Because you know everything?” he asked, with a note of challenge in his voice.
Gwen didn’t back down. “I just don’t want you nosing around town, stirring up gossip, and starting rumors about Scarlett. She’s a national treasure.”
“I know that.”
“Can you at least keep me informed about what you find?”
“Of course,” he said. “But this is your town, and you know it better than I do, so I could use your help. As long as you remember that it’smystory. I discovered it. And I would be very displeased if you scooped me and posted about this on the internet before my book comes out.”
Gwen leaned forward on her desk. “I promise not to do that, as long as you promise me something in return.”
“What would that be?”
She gestured toward the file folder. “First of all, I’d like a copy of that photograph.”
He pulled it out and handed it over. “You can have this one. I’ve got others. But please keep it to yourself.”
“I will.” She set it down on the desk. “Second, you’ll give me first dibs on any primary sources you uncover that prove your theory. I’d like them for my collection.” She was already imagining a new exhibit to go along with the release of his book—if his theory turned out to be true. Which she still wasn’t convinced would be the case.
“It’s a deal,” Peter replied. “Is that it? Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Good.” He slipped the file folder back into his computer case and stood up. “Now I think I’ll tour the exhibits.”
“Sure,” she replied. “And when you’re done, I’ll take you to the archive room. Our summer student will be here at ten. Her name is Susie, and she can help you find anything you need.”
“Excellent.” He reached into his back pocket for his phone. “Let’s add each other to our contacts so we can text. I’ll let you know if I find anything super juicy in the collection.”
“I guarantee you won’t,” she said. “And please don’t saysuper juicy.”
His eyes lifted from his screen, and he chuckled. “You’re very protective of Scarlett, aren’t you?”
She chose not to answer that question as they traded phones and input each other’s numbers.
A moment later, he was making his way toward the door, where he stopped and faced her. “Where’s a good place to go for lunch?”
Gwen sat down and rolled her chair closer to the desk. “This is a university town, so there are all sorts of places on the main street. It’s about a ten-minute walk from here.”
“Great. Would you like to join me later? We could talk shop.”
