“Am I?” With a winning smile, he faced her, then glanced to Lauren, expectation in his crinkling blue eyes.
Right. “Anita, this is Lawrence Westlake of the Napoleon Society.” She hugged her clipboard to her chest. “And my father.”
Lawrence bowed to Anita as Lauren introduced her, as well.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Westlake. Truly an honor.” Anita pumped his wrinkled hand in her smooth one. “Sorry to scram, but I’ve got a meeting to get ready for. See you then, Dr. Westlake.”
“Thank you for acknowledging me,” her father said when Anita had gone. “I didn’t expect it, and I can’t tell you how nice it felt. At the gala, I didn’t introduce you as my daughter because you worked hard for your titles and deserve to be known for them and not forwho parented you. I also realize that my role in your life has been insignificant. I didn’t feel I deserved to claim you. If people recognized that we share a last name, so be it.”
“Your role was not insignificant,” Lauren reminded him. “It was your passion for Egyptology that started me on this path.”
“And look where it has led you.” He opened his arms wide before gesturing to the new coffin. “What a thrill.”
“It is.” She was gratified that he understood. “Even more thrilling would be to find her twin.”
“Oh?”
“According to the inscription, Hetsumina had a twin sister named Hatsudora.” She walked around the coffin and pointed to the hieroglyphs that told the tale. “They did everything in life together. They were twin princesses. Born on the same day and died on the same day of the same disease. You know as well as I do that sons were prized more highly than daughters. But look at this. These twin girls were absolutely beloved.” Lauren wondered what that felt like.
“And were they not buried together?”
She sighed. “That’s unclear. The Met team went through the entire tomb, and Hatsudora’s coffin was not there. It could be that they were buried in separate tombs, which would make sense if the young woman had married into another family by the time they died.”
“Or?” Lawrence prompted, his expression suggesting he’d thought of alternate possibilities himself.
“Or tomb robbers had already been in the tomb and taken her. Hetsumina had been hidden under a mudslide that required painstaking excavation. I wouldn’t be surprised if robbers took the twin they could reach without realizing the other was hidden beneath the mud.”
“Any number of things could have separated this pair,” Lawrence added.
“They ought to be together. Can you imagine? I do believe the Met would pay almost any price if the missing twin were ever found. It would be a highlight of my career to reunite them.”
Visitors pressed in around them, and Lauren gave way. When her father beckoned her to the side of the room, she joined him. Fleetingly, she wondered about his stamina these days. He didn’t complain, so she had no idea what age had done to his joints or ability to stand for long.
His knee popped as he lowered himself to the bench and patted the space beside him. “Was attending the gala helpful for your friend Joe? Did he find what he was looking for?”
Lauren sat. “He met a lot of people who might be able to help. I’ll follow up with them and encourage cooperation.”
“If I didn’t mention it yet, I really appreciated having you there.”
She nodded. “I enjoyed seeing the artifacts you brought.”
“I knew you would. Just like I know you would enjoy seeing such things in the field even more. You deserve it. Please, reconsider coming on the Napoleon Society expedition with me. You’ve always wanted to do this. Now’s your chance.”
But the board wasn’t satisfied with her existing credentials. They wanted more. Part of her wanted their approval. The other part of her wished she didn’t care at all. Seeking affirmation was exhausting.
“You know how busy I am.” She’d already spent too much time chatting with him this morning. “I’m getting ready for an exhibition almost single-handedly, and now my evenings will be occupied helping Joe. If the work I’m already doing doesn’t stand on its own, then I don’t know what else I could possibly do. Why are you smiling?”
He slapped his knee. “Because, my dear girl, you did not say you don’t want to go. You said that, given your busy schedule, you don’t know how to impress them. But I do.”
Lauren waited.
“Write about your work with the detective. Outline how you can tell if an artifact is fake. Publish your articles. Write case studies of what you’re already doing. How long would it take you for a five-hundred-word piece for a newsletter?”
“Whose newsletter?” The Met had its own bulletin, but her father had no say in what they published.
“The Napoleon Society newsletter,” he answered. “The editor is always looking for content, and the board would get to see fresh samples of your work. At least you’ll get some credit for all you’re doing pro bono for the police. Wouldn’t more publishing credits be good for your résumé, too?”
His newsletter was not an academic, peer-reviewed journal, so she wouldn’t actually be adding to her credentials. But there were other reasons to consider. Articles would reach far more people than she could otherwise. If she could teach them how to spot forgeries before they paid for them, all the better. Still, she wasn’t sure she was ready to attach her name to her father’s publication. “I’ll think about it.”
