Chasing Tomorrow

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Jeff sounded as proud as if he’d built the museum himself.

“It is. It’s beautiful,” said Tracy. “So’s that girl you work with,” she added archly.

“Rebecca? Is she? I hadn’t really noticed.”

Tracy laughed loudly. “This is me you’re talking to, honey. We’ve met before, remember?”

“I’m serious,” said Jeff. “You know I only have eyes for you. Although I must say I’m touched that you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous!”

“Come with me.” Jeff took her hand. “I wanna show you what we’re working on.” His fingers felt warm and strong around Tracy’s. Maybe I am a bit jealous.

He led her into a small anteroom. The girl Tracy had met earlier, Rebecca, was inside, along with a group of about twelve women and a smattering of men, all in their sixties and seventies. Three rows of chairs had been arranged in front of an old-fashioned slide projector, which was beaming images of what looked like gold weaponry and utensils onto the screen at the far end of the room.

“We’re about to open a brand-new exhibition of Saxon burial treasure,” Jeff whispered in Tracy’s ear. “This stuff was all found under a parking lot somewhere in Norfolk. It’s the most complete royal gravesite from the period that’s ever been found. Absolutely unique.”

“Is that vase solid gold?” Tracy stared at the latest image on the screen, a gleaming, two-handled vase almost a foot tall.

Jeff nodded.

“Jesus Christ. How much must that be worth?”

“It’s priceless,” said Jeff.

Tracy frowned. “Nothing’s priceless. I mean it, I’m curious. How much would a private collector pay for something like that?”

“I don’t know. A helluva lot. There’s more than a million pounds’ worth of gold there, even if you melted the thing down. But as an irreplaceable piece of history?” He shrugged. “Two or three million? I’m guessing.”

Tracy whistled. “Wow.” She glanced around as the old biddies finished their plastic cups of tea and began to sit down. “Who are the granny brigade?” she whispered in Jeff’s ear.

“They’re the volunteers. They’re going to run the exhibition. They help catalog the treasures, man the admissions desk and give guided tours. I’m about to give them an introductory lecture.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tracy looked shocked. “You leave amateurs in charge of millions of dollars’ worth of gold?”

“They’re well-informed amateurs,” said Jeff. “Hell, I’m an amateur.”

“Yeah, but if someone grabs that vase and makes a run for it, at least you can run after them. What are this bunch gonna do? Throw their walkers?”

Jeff laughed. “No one’s gonna steal anything.”

Rebecca Mortimer wandered over. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. Tracy noticed that her accent was cut-glass Oxbridge, and that she didn’t look particularly sorry. “But we really ought to get started in a minute. Jeff?”

She touched his arm, only for a second. It was a tiny gesture, almost unnoticeable, but it implied a certain intimacy between her and Jeff that Tracy didn’t like. At all.

“He’ll be with you in a moment,” she said coldly.

Rebecca took the hint and walked away.

“My, my,” murmured Jeff, sotto voce, an amused look on his face. “You really are jealous.”

“It must be my hormones.” Tracy beamed back at him. “We pregnant women can get terribly overemotional, you know.”

It took a few seconds for the impact of her words to sink in. When they did, Jeff swept her up into his arms with a whoop of delight and kissed her on the lips for a very long time. The assembled volunteers all turned to gawk at them.

“Really?” said Jeff, finally coming up for air. “You’re sure?”

/>