Intertwining Destinies

Chapter 6

Emerald entered the Blackwood Gallery, coffee cup in hand and her mind back in the hospital. She had never seen anyone so bizarre looking in her life and yet, she couldn't help feeling tenderness for the young girl. It was hard to explain but she had felt the same tug of energy that she associated with trees and plants.

"Where have you been Bruttenholm?!" It was director Sanders. It never boded well when he called her using her last name. She knew she was late. "Do you know how stressed I am? Why weren't you answering your phone? Nobody other than you knows the code to the Bethmoora vault. I am trying to run a gallery. Is it too much to ask my curators and researchers to not vanish off the face of earth?" Sanders vented out all his frustration at not being able to locate Emerald.

"I was at the hospital director. I got into an incident last night", Emerald said.

"Are you alright Emerald? I am sorry for yelling but you know this auction is so important for us. What happened?" Sanders asked.

"I am fine. I will tell you later about what happened. It's not important at the moment. Let's get things ready for the show."Emerald said.

Sanders released a sigh of relief. His best expert on ancient history was here now. He didn't have to worry anymore. However, there was one more thing to sort out.

"Emerald have you prepared the introduction on the Bethmooran civilization?" Sanders asked.

"Yeah. I have. Don't worry about it. I am well prepared for the lecture." Emerald said with a smile.

"Good good. Do you have it with you now? I want to take a look at it before the show", Sanders said.

"Sure.", said Emerald and handing her coffee cup to Sanders, she opened her wide satchel bag and took the papers out. She gave them to the director.

"Thanks Emerald. I will let you get on with the setting up of the hall and the rest of the arrangement. I will see you in a few hours", saying that the director walked away to his office.

Sanders sat down in his office and placed the papers on his desk. He was worried about what Emerald was going to say at the auction. She had the same zeal like her father to bring forth evidences that lost and forgotten cultures and civilizations were not myths. All the slandering and mocking by the archaeology community had done little to dampen the spirit of the late Dr. Bruttenholm. Even after being fired from the gallery and the University, he continued on his expeditions. It was a bit of a mystery as to where he got his finances from. Some talk about a mysterious rich brother had come floating into the director's ears.

He had left a major fortune behind for his daughter. "It was bad when academics had money. There was very little one could do to control them from pursuing their research of interest", thought the director dryly.

However, the director couldn't help but feel smug at having a gem like Emerald among his curators. She was brilliant and she seemed to have the facts and figures of almost all published and acknowledged discoveries on ancient civilizations at the tip of her tongue. If anything, she could be a better historian than her father.

Mr. Waldorf, the chief patron of the gallery had seemed extremely happy that a Bruttenholm was still working at the gallery. It was the name that had piqued his interest. He had spent nearly four hours explaining the research and the discoveries made at the barren Irish site. Mr. Waldorf had nearly jumped from his chair at the mention of the mysterious piece of a golden crown. He had asked about the artefacts that would be displayed in this year's exhibition. "You will hear from me Sanders...and perhaps a few of my friends. We can help each other out", he had said with a glint in his eyes. It left the director with a bad feeling his stomach. In recent times he had found that Mr. Waldorf always seemed to have that effect on him. In what seemed less than a month, he had received visits from a number of rich old families across the country. They all wanted to know if it was possible to buy the artefacts. The figures they spoke of were enough to make the director sweat through his socks.