Epilogue 2 - Amanda
" Well, I guess like everything else around here – increasingly – I will just handle this myself.”
I am losing it.
“Talking to myself.”
I just did it again.
I head down the hall of the soon to be Winthrop House Museum – that’s just a working title of course. We still need to test other potential names... The Winthrop Galleries, maybe The Charlotte Winthrop Collections. Whatever will bring in the funds to get this place in shape to attract the crème de la crème.
This will not be some backwoods rinky-dink sideshow. Nope, Zoe’s Great Aunt Charlotte’s pile of old-world goodies is gonna be my ticket to big league New York fundraising, grant writing... who knows where from there.
I glance at a portrait of the old girl as I pass it. One of my favorite’s actually. The image shows Charlotte in her classic adventuring gear, one hand on her hip as she grins at the camera.
"You were definitely a woman who knew what you wanted – and how to get it.”
Damnit, still talking to myself.
And why not?
With Zoe, Olivia, and now Mia all mysteriously vanished, and no help from the incompetent temp agency, I’ve practically been sleeping here, just to keep the soon-to-be museum on track this week. As I continue down the hall, I glance in one of the exquisite wall mirrors, giving myself a once over.
Ugg. My perfect French twist is falling apart. And my cute little jacket looks like it might have some coffee on the lapel.
Great.
Not that it matters. No one here to impress anyhow. Certainly not Douche-bag Dan...
Ewww.
I push away the nagging thought that there has been a pronounced lack of men to impress for quite some time.
Yeah, like for forever.
Shh. When I get to New York, it will all be different.
Right.
I stand up straighter at the thought.
Yes, I just need to put in the work.
Who needs men anyhow.
I quickly duck into Olivia’s office to grab the Collections report I need before returning to my own desk.
Okay, let’s do this.
As I scan the report in search of eye catching items I can feature in my pitch to donors I spot something rather intriguing.
“Olivia? Why didn’t you tell me we still have whole rooms that have not yet been cataloged?” I mutter, already imagining the possibilities.
How am I supposed to sell the dream here, when no one tells me anything?
The reference leads me to one of the mustier rooms in the east wing.
I flick the light switch to enter, but of course it doesn’t work. Wonderful...
Of course, cause a light that works would be too easy. Seems everything around here has to be an adventure.
Hey, you never know, this room might just hold the key to securing the big fish donors that could really fast-track the Charlotte Winthrop Collection...
I chuckle. That is my favorite name at the moment.
I peer into the dim room, letting my eyes adjust. The faint light filtering through grimy windows reveals shapes of crates and boxes, and... is that a massive candle on the table?
Well, would you look at that.
Fishing in my purse, I find a book of matches from some overpriced cocktail bar downtown. As I strike one, the flickering light reveals ornate lettering on the candle's base: "S.D.H."
Below that I make out part of an inscription” Light me-“
Wiping away more grime, I make out the rest: "Light me and all will be illuminated."
Well, someone had a sense of humor...
Funny. And useful.
I strike the match...
Thank so much for reading Mia and Koda’s story!