“The auction. The excavation. Probably media interest once word spreads.”
“Then we should get some rest.” He hesitates. “Unless you’d like company for a while. I make decent hot chocolate, and I suspect neither of us will sleep easily after tonight.”
Finn looks up at me, then at Sid, tail swaying gently.
“Hot chocolate sounds good,” I admit.
We drive in separate cars to Sid’s apartment above the gallery, Finn claiming the passenger seat with his usual dignity. The familiar streets of Seacliff Haven glitter with Christmas lights, the town unaware of the drama that unfolded at its edges.
Tomorrow brings revelations and resolutions. Tonight, unexpected companionship feels like exactly what I need.
Chapter Nine
Three days after Reeves’s arrest, I stood in the lighthouse cellar watching Dr. Caroline Mitchell’s team extract a small wooden box from the wall. Sid stood beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. Finn sat at our feet, his role in the investigation earning him a special exception to the “no dogs at archaeological sites” rule.
“Remarkable preservation,” Dr. Mitchell murmured, lifting the lid with gloved hands.
The Star of Sebastian caught the work lights—a brass and silver disc about six inches across, its surface covered in intricate markings. Not star-shaped at all, but named for its creator, Captain Sebastian Mateus. A navigational device centuries ahead of its time.
“Your father was right about everything,” Dr. Mitchell said, glancing at me. “The coordinates, the authentication details—his documentation was impeccable.”
I thought about Dad’s note in the lockbox.Trust yourself.He’d hidden the clues, set me on the path, and trusted me to finish what he’d started.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Conservation assessment, then museum display. The Salvador Mundi site will receive protected status within the month.” She smiled. “Seacliff Haven is about to become historically significant.”
The Christmas Marketauction that evening felt different than any before. My driftwood star sat on the central pedestal, returned by Chief Barnes that morning after being processed as evidence. The backing had been carefully resealed, the microfilm inside now copied and secured in official archives.
“Nervous?” Sid asked, appearing beside my booth.
“You keep asking me that.”
“You keep looking like the answer is yes.”
I laughed—something that had become easier around him over the past few days. “I’m not nervous. I’m . . . processing. A week ago, I was just trying to finish a craft project. Now I’m apparently the daughter of the man who discovered a historically significant shipwreck.”
“And the woman who caught an artifact smuggler, recovered stolen property, and ensured proper historical preservation.” Sid handed me a cup of hot chocolate. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
The auction proceeded briskly. When my star came up, Mayor Jenkins provided context—a carefully worded summary that hinted at the adventure without revealing details still under investigation. The bidding climbed quickly.
Dawson Morrow won with a bid that would fund the marine conservation projects for an entire year.
“For the lighthouse museum,” he told me afterward, handling the star with reverence. “It belongs alongside the Salvador Mundi exhibit. Samuel would have wanted that.”
“He would have wanted you two to stop fighting years ago,” I said.
Dawson’s weathered face creased with something between a smile and a wince. “Probably. I wasted a lot of time being stubborn. Your father tried to tell me that the discovery wasn’t about profit or credit—it was about preservation. Took me too long to listen.”
“But you did. Eventually.”
“Eventually.” He nodded toward where Sid was examining a display of driftwood ornaments. “Don’t make my mistake, Marnie. When something good is right in front of you, don’t waste years pretending it isn’t.”
Later, after the crowds thinned and the market lights cast long reflections across the harbor, Sid and I walked along the waterfront with Finn ranging ahead of us.
“Dawson made an interesting suggestion,” Sid said. “A collaboration. Your traditional approach, my contemporary techniques. For next year’s auction.”
“Did he now?”
