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He moves to where I left the box sitting on my work-desk. “Your tricks of the trade worked?” he asks, looking excited.
I nod. “Normally, I’d just dunk it in a bowl of solution, and let the acid dissolve it,” I explain, as I show him the box. “But I didn’t want to risk damaging whatever’s inside.”
“Do you want to do the honors?” he hands it back.
My pulse kicks a little as I carefully use my tweezers to pluck away the last patches of rust—
“Wait!” Reeve stops me. “I forgot, we need a soundtrack for this.”
“We do?” I ask, amused as he pulls out his phone, and starts scrolling.
“It’s a moment here,” he argues. “And I know the perfect way to set the mood…”
“The treasure hunting mood?” I ask, but when he connects to my portable speaker, and sets the music playing, I have to laugh.
It’s the Indiana Jones soundtrack.
“See?” Reeve grins, looking boyishly excited. “A good scene is all in the details.”
“I forget sometimes what a movie geek you are,” I tease, but he’s right. The moment takes on a new sense of anticipation as I get back to work, carefully chipping the rust away. “There we go,” I breathe, both of us leaning closer as I finally ease the lid off, revealing …
A sheaf of yellowed papers.
“More clues!” Reeve exclaims.
“Not so fast …” I carefully don my gloves, and lift them out, hoping for more letters, or a diary. But instead, these look like a motley collection of junk: a flyer for the county fair, some hand-written receipts from local stores, and a pamphlet from a local church.
“The virtue of forbearance and grit,” Reeve reads aloud. “Thrilling stuff.”
I pause, reviewing the documents again. “Maybe there are more invisible ink messages, hidden here?” I suggest hopefully.
“With the directions to the gold.”
“You and your gold,” I smile.
“Hey, someone wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of hiding the box if the contents weren’t important, somehow,” he points out, and he’s right.
There’s another clue hidden here, I can just feel it.
Reeve produces a lighter. It’s heavy silver, with writing etched on the side. “Hotel du Cap, Cannes,”I read. “Fancy.”
“I was there for the film festival,” he explains.
“Sounds like fun.” I think of sparkling beaches, and fancy French waiters bringing me a spritz. “Did you stop by Leo’s yacht, too?”
He chuckles. “No, but I did corner Martin Scorsese in an elevator, it was the greatest ninety seconds of my life.”
“So far.” I give him a smoldering look, and watch Reeve’s eyes darken.
I smile, turning my attention back to the documents. “Let’s see if Earl and Maddie used the lemon juice trick on these, too.”
I pick the flyer for the county fair. The date says June 7, 1921, and I pause. “I think this is where Earl took Madeline on their first date,” I exclaim. “It was in one of the diaries. They rode the Ferris wheel, and kissed behind the circus tent. It’s crazy to remember, they were just a couple of kids. They seem larger than life to me now,” I add.
Reeve leans against the workstation. “I know what you mean. I was researching a script a couple of years ago, about this guy who escaped a war zone, out in Afghanistan. A real hero, he saved a bunch of lives. And then when I met him … he was this skinny twenty-two year old, looked like he would be more at home in my mom’s basement, playing video games.”
“People are capable of incredible things.” I nod. “That’s what I love about my work,” I add, looking around the room. “You get to see all the good people try to do for each other. I mean, sure, history is littered with terrible atrocities, but if you look for it, there’s a lot to believe in, too. Even in the midst of war, and slavery, and oppression, there are always people trying to make a difference, in their own small ways. Living their lives, falling in love … riding the Ferris wheel at the county fair.”
Reeve tilts his head at me. “You’re a storyteller, too,” he says with a smile.
