He pointed to the quiche. “May Isay a wordabout this quiche? I have never in my life seen anyone eat a quiche like this.”
“I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve been a little distracted this morning.”
Paul sat on the edge of the bathroom counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think finding a new place is a great idea. I know you’ve been eager to have a home.”
She saw doubt in his eyes. “But . . .”
“Are you sure about buying Honeysuckle Hollow? It needs serious work.”
Tessa walked out of the bathroom shaking her head, and Paul followed her into the living room, balancing the quiche on one hand. “Weren’t you the one championing me to save it? I’m aware of how much work it’s going to take. I can handle it.”
“Have you ever done this sort of work before?”
“I have people I can call. It’s not as thoughI’mgoing to make the repairs myself.”
Paul put the quiche on the kitchen table. “If I can pry for a moment . . . what about the money? Expenses can escalate rapidly when rehabbing homes, and I think this particular home could be an expensive project.”
Tessa knew Paul was only saying out loud what she’d already been thinking, but she wasn’t deterred. “I have savings, and I plan on using the money from the condo sale to buy and repair the house.”
Paul’s frown deepened. “Have I mentioned this is a massive reno?”
Tessa pressed her lips together. She could tell by his expression that he didn’t have confidence in her decision. “Listen, Jiminy, I can do this.” Her cell phone rang, giving her a momentary reprieve from Paul. “Hello?”
“Ms. Andrews? This is Austen Blackstone. How are you this morning?”
Paul opened the silverware drawer and removed a fork. Then he opened the refrigerator, pulled a few leaves from the head of lettuce, and closed the door. He sat at the table and worked on the quiche from the opposite side of Tessa’s destruction.
“Busy. How are you?” She walked to the wall map. The mint stretched across the Atlantic and wrapped around silver pins in Ireland, Spain, and Morocco.
“Surprised, actually,” Austen said. “After searching for similar finds or tools with Cherokee language inscribed on them, there are a spare few, less than five across the country. Their research included radiocarbon dating the wood, which we didn’t do, but the others are dated to be at least a thousand years old. Not the inscription, of course, but the wood.”
Tessa’s knees buckled. She stared at the spear leaning against the bookshelf. “That’s impossible.Lookat it.”
“I have to agree it’s in immaculate shape—”
“Impossible shape. What does thatmean?” she asked.
Paul looked up from his breakfast and tilted his head at her, asking her questions with his blue eyes. He tore lettuce leaves into small pieces and dropped them into Huck Finn’s plastic container. The fish swam circles in the water as if saying thank you.
“It means you have a priceless artifact in your possession,” Austen explained. “I’d like to discuss options with you on how to proceed from here. The university would welcome an opportunity to study it further, and I know a few people in Washington, DC, and in Chicago who would be more than happy to take it off your hands and display it for the world.”
“Email me some information, and I’ll get back with you.” Tessa gave Austen her email address and ended the call. She explained Austen’s findings, and then she and Paul were silent for a few heartbeats.
Paul grabbed his notepad from the coffee table. “This is quite the find for a small town like Mystic Water. I’ll call a few magazines today, let them know what’s been found here, and see who will want to print the story.”
“What story?”
“The story that I’m going to write about Mystic Water being home to a one-thousand-year-old Native American spear with a Cherokee prayer carved into its shaft,” Paul said, jotting notes into his notebook.
Lines of concentration wrinkled his forehead. She thought of Cecilia downstairs and what she’d said to Tessa this morning.There’s the charmer who’s convinced my boy to stay a while longer.
“So you’re not leaving?”
He nodded without looking up. “Not until I finish the story. I’ll need to go eventually, but my trip to the Cook Islands is on hold.” He paused and glanced up at her. “Is that okay? I didn’t even ask if you wanted a story written about the spear, but it’s a rare piece of history. It wouldn’t seem fair to keep it all to yourself. Others can benefit from this finding, from knowing something like this exists. And its connection with the house is remarkable. A house that’s been a refuge for hundreds and with a spear of protection buried beneath it. Coincidental?”
“It’s a strange connection, I agree. I don’t mind if you write about it, as long as we leave the actual location of the spear a secret. I’ve watched episodes on treasure hunters, and some of those seekers are intense. Intense enough to show up here.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Tessa glanced at Paul, who looked as surprised as she was. Tessa opened the door, and a gust of wind smelling like lavender and green pine needles rushed into the room. Tessa’s mouth dropped open when she saw Crazy Kate standing on the landing.
