“Yes. There are several copies around. In the office upstairs, in the library.”

“I’d like to see the catalog, if I may.”

“I’ll get one for you.”

Daria continued to survey the contents of the room for another ten minutes in silence. Finally, she said, “Where are the artifacts from my great-grandfather’s expedition?”

Louise pointed to a door at the end of the room.

“Behind that door.”

“Would you…?” Daria pointed to it.

“Of course.”

Louise made her way around the crates and boxes to the back of the room.

“I might need a hand with this,” she told Daria.

Several large boxes were stacked near the door, partially blocking it.

The two women pushed the boxes to one side so that Louise could unlock the heavy metal door. Once it was opened, she turned on the overhead light and stepped back.

“Take as much time as you need,” she told Daria. “Feel free to look around. I’m going to go back up to the next level and see what shape the offices are in.”

Daria entered the room, and her first thought was how like a tomb it was, with its stale, lifeless air and dark corners. To one side was a small desk, and Daria knew immediately that this was where her ancestor sat while he inventoried his remarkable find. She crossed the room and sat on the chair, then opened the desk drawer. She found it empty save for some papers which she removed and studied for a moment. The writing was small and elaborate, the ink faded and almost illegible. They appeared to be worksheets of some kind. She set them aside atop the desk, then began to inspect the cartons.

Her mouth was dry and her hands shook with an anticipation she hadn’t expected. She ran her hands along the crates, wondering what lay within each of the wooden boxes that had been packed on a Turkish plain almost one hundred years earlier. If Louise was correct, the contents had only been seen one time since then, when Alistair prepared his inventory. Daria began to count the crates. There were fifty-seven in the room. If the stories were true, a fortune in rare antiquities was just within her reach. Artifacts that had been hidden for centuries, never seen by the modern world, lay at arm’s length. The thought made her mind go numb.

She noted the seals on the crates and wondered who would have placed them there. Would Alistair have done so, if he was planning on exhibiting the contents? Iliana, perhaps, after her husband’s death? She toyed with the edges of one of the wax seals, sorely tempted to break it and look inside, but she hadn’t been hired yet and really didn’t have the right.

This was the chance of a lifetime, and she knew it. She gathered the papers from the desk before leaving the room, securing the door with the key that Louise had left in the lock, and went out through what she already thought of as the Jacobs room.

“I found some worksheets in the desk downstairs,” Daria said when she found the office where Louise waited for her. “I took the liberty of bringing them up so I could look them over. I hope that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

“How soon do you need an answer from me?”

“As soon as possible. I don’t need to tell you how involved this project will be. I can’t even begin to imagine.” Louise stood. “But we’ll need to open by November of next year if we’re to going to do it for the anniversary.”

“That’s hardly enough time to do this correctly.”

“That’s all the time we have, unfortunately.” Ignoring the layer of dust, Louise leaned back against the desk. “Here’s what we can offer you. Besides the opportunity to be totally in charge of an archaeological event that will have everyone in your field talking for years, we’ll pay you a salary.” She mentioned a sum that was less than Daria made for consulting on a single dig. “The guesthouse will be yours for as long as you’re here, and you’ll have a car at your disposal.”

Louise smiled. “Not a very new one, or a very sporty one, but it’s a car, all the same.”

Daria smiled back. If Louise could see what passed as working vehicles in the part of the world where she’d just come from she’d laugh out loud. Even the very basic rental she’d picked up at the airport seemed luxurious.

“And you’d have meals at the dining hall, whenever you chose.” Seeing the look of horror that crossed Daria’s face, Louise laughed. “I eat there myself, really. The food is actually very good. We have a wonderful cook. She’s been here for over thirty years. Buys as much fresh in season from the local farmers as she can.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“So what do you think?” Louise asked.

“I’d like to think about it. And while I’m here, I’d like to read over Alistair’s journals.”

“I’ll get them for you. I can make accommodations available for you to spend the night here on campus.”

“That would be fine, thank you.”

“We can stop at my office and pick up the journals, and I’ll turn over the key to the guesthouse.” Louise started for the door and Daria followed her. “I had my housekeeper air out and freshen McGowan House over the past few days, in hopes that you’d accept our offer.”

“McGowan House?” Daria asked as they walked from the dimly lit basement to the bright lobby.

“The guesthouse.” Louise opened the front door and turned to lock it behind them. “Benjamin Howe had it built for Alistair and Iliana as a wedding present. I don’t know if a McGowan has slept under the roof since she died in 1939. Though some claim to have seen her now and then,” Louise said with a perfectly straight face. “And who knows, Daria, she might even like the company enough to stick around for the reopening of the museum…”

H aving declined Louisa’s offer to show her through the house, Daria unlocked the front door. The recent rain and humidity had caused the jamb to swell, and as a result, it opened only reluctantly after a good shove.

The front entry was long and narrow, with stairs that came down along the left wall. There were parlors to the left and right of the foyer, both with fireplaces, and sheets covering all the furniture. Behind the second parlor was a library straight out of an English novel, with shelves that ran floor to ceiling, an ancient oriental carpet, and a mahogany desk that any antiques dealer would love to take to auction. Chairs flanking the fireplace were, like those in the parlors, covered with sheets. Daria peeked and found both were of well-worn dark brown leather. A spacious dining room just down the hall opened into a butler’s pantry and the kitchen. A small sitting room was off the kitchen, and a glass-enclosed conservatory lay beyond.

Daria was dazzled by all the space, the high ceilings and tall windows. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Louise she’d spent the last twelve years living in tents. She dropped her bag in the front hall next to the steps, and went into the kitchen carrying the canvas satchel that held the journals Louise had given her. There was a swinging door between the butler’s pantry and the kitchen, and it closed behind her with a slight whoosh.

The appliances were far from new, but Louise had assured her they worked. The cabinets were old but had been painted fairly recently. She opened one after another, pausing to examine the contents of each. A set of Fiestaware in colors popular in the 1930s, some pottery bowls, some glasses, but not surprisingly, no food.

She opened the refrigerator and noted that it had been turned on but stood empty. Behind the freezer door, ice trays had been filled. She popped a few cubes from a tray and slid them into a glass she took from the cabinet, then filled it with water from the tap. In the field, there were times when ice was more precious than gold. The first time she’d seen a refrigerator that dispensed not only ice water but ice cubes and crushed ice as well, she’d been fascinated.