Ripley had chosen to be respected, like Rita said, but that set up a situation where all Smithson had to do was saycoracoidand her crew fell in love.
She’s…oh God, she’sjealous.It’s mortifying to be twenty-eight and flooded with possessiveness like a kid who doesn’t want to share.
Knowing what’s happening doesn’t make it any easier, though. “I need to take care of something. Cara, can you close up?”
Cara’s light, quick steps follow her retreat. “He’s been talking for barely a minute,” she whispers. Trust Cara to guess exactly what Ripley’s thinking. “The crew is just excited about Beauty. Everyone knows you found her.”
“Do they?” Two days ago, no one questioned who was in charge. But now, there’s Smithson.Jamescan take time to teach because his family’s well-being doesn’t hinge on getting Beauty out of the ground this summer.Jamesdoesn’t have to make hard choices about whether to be loved or respected at work.
He gets an extra point just for showing up.
“Don’t, Rip,” Cara says urgently, chasing her up the stairs. “Don’t even think about backing out of the agreement.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.”
“Come on. You know you’ve got no poker face.” Cara puts on a TV anchor voice. “In other news, Ripley Adams remains unconvinced about this deal. More at six.”
“Well, maybe it’s not a good idea!”
“Itisa good idea,” Cara says, uncharacteristically firm. “Have any of your contacts responded to your feelers about funding?”
“Not yet,” she admits.
“Right. So James could mean the difference between a six-figure sale to a museum and an eight-figure sale to someone like Maury.Eight figures,Ripley. Naaáhsa and I could pay off the mortgageandthe loan. We could upgrade the Tribal museum and the elders’ center. I know he didn’t help you when he could have and having him around will take some of the shine off this summer. I know his investigation will keep you away from the work you’d rather be doing. I’m asking you to do this anyway. It’s my dig too.”
Ripley presses a fist to her mouth. She’s breathing hard, fighting tears—a gross overreaction to an impromptu teaching session from the man she once wished would be her teacher.
“Okay. I will tolerate him on the dig and help him with exposing his fraud. But he gets none of Beauty. I’m serious. No publications, no presentations, no press releases. His name will not be in the acknowledgments.”
Cara snort-laughs. “James isn’t like that. He doesn’t want our laurels.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem for him not to take them.”
Maybe Smithson isn’t like Will. But there’s no harm in making sure a man can never again steal her work.
9
June 8:
Eighty-One Days Until the End of the Summer Excavation Season
In the middle of the crew’s ritualistic evening board-game marathon, Ripley’s phone buzzes with a text.
Dad:
Hey Pip! Is now good?
Monday is Clue night. As with every game, the crew has invented a pile of arcane rules mostly aimed at humiliating one another.
“Hey,” Matteo protests as Jordin steals his beer and drinks half of it in one go.
“Forbidden word!” Fiona instantly snaps.
Jordin grins, ungraciously whips the colander labeledRoss Gelleroff her head, and plonks it onto Matteo’s. He mumbles the Song of Shame—“I am the worst paleontologist”—on repeat, sung to the tune of theFriendstheme.
Smithson’s never played Clue, much less this version of it. Despite creating a gigantic diagram in the sketchbook he carts around the dig, he’s getting slaughtered.
Finn rolls, glances at Fiona, then changes his mind about the Conservatory and heads to the Lounge.
