She’d made herself proud.
The only thing she’d ever wanted.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
One Year Later
The red carpet beckoned Corrie toward the entrance of Chicago’s Field Museum of Natural History. Banners hung near the top of the building: FROM TENOCHTITL?N TO NOWHERE: THE LIFE OF AZTEC WARRIOR CHIMALLI. The signs, illuminated by the spotlights below, featured a rendering of Chimalli standing on top of the waterfall, with Yaretzi and their child standing beside him. Ethan had outdone himself with this one.
“Come on, let’s head in,” Miri said, taking Corrie by the arm.
Dozens of limos lined the front of the museum, with at least a hundred guests climbing the stairs to enter—men in tuxedos and women in evening gowns. But none as bold as Corrie’s—a deep red mermaid-style dress with a sweetheart neckline, accentuated by her French twist updo. Finally, an opportunity to get out of dirty khakis and hiking boots. It was her night, after all. Had it not been for her research and belief in Mendoza’s recounting of Chimalli’s life, his bones and the tecpatl would likely still be in that damp cave. And the truth would never have been known.
It had also taken some finagling with the Mexican Department of Archaeology and Juan Carlos to get them to agree to loan the artifacts they’d uncovered for a six-month exhibition in Chicago. The deal entailed that she volunteer to assist the department with another dig in Mexico, free of charge. But with her sabbatical in effect, she had plenty of time. And with all the press from the Chimalli dig—magazine and newspaper articles, talk show appearances, and book deals—she could volunteer her time without financial worry. The International Institute of Archaeology had even offered her a paid keynote opportunity at next year’s conference.
But that one she’d turned down.
Corrie and Miri entered the gallery, immediately greeted by a waiter holding a tray of champagne flutes. After two hours of travel by Jeep on a dirt road, followed by five hours of planes and airports, yes, champagne. Corrie took the glass and took a sip, but no. This wasn’t her.
She reached her hand to the waiter’s arm before he walked away. “Actually,” she said once she had his attention, “would it be possible to get a pour of rye? Neat?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be right back, miss.”
She smiled to herself as he walked away, reminiscing over her newfound love of rye whiskey.
“Dr. Mejía!”
Corrie turned to find Sunny, in a bright yellow floor-length gown, running toward her and flinging her arms around Corrie’s shoulders.
“Sunny. So good to see you,” she said, pulling back and bringing a smile to her face. “This is my good friend and colleague Dr. Miriam Jacobs.”
“So great to meet you!” Sunny said, pulling Miri into a hearty embrace. Miri’s eyes went wide, and Corrie had to duck her head to keep from laughing. “Are you a kick-ass archaeologist, too?”
“Um . . . y-yes,” Miri said, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I mean, not like Corrie, but—”
Corrie waved her off. “Give it time and you’ll see. She’ll be swinging from vines in no time.”
Miri blushed and bit back a smile. She might not have been as outgoing as Sunny or as adventurous as Corrie, but Miri had potential.
“Weren’t you literally at the dig this morning? You look uh-mazing. This dress is killer,” Sunny said, motioning toward Corrie’s dress.
“I was going for badass,” Corrie joked.
“Oh, your ass certainly looks bad. You’re getting plenty of naughty glances, I can tell you that,” Sunny said with a smirk, and nodding her head toward the other guests.
Corrie didn’t bother checking whether Sunny was right. This dress was designed to catch plenty of glances. None, however, compared to the way that Ford looked at her. Looked at her not just like she was a pretty face or had a killer body, but like he saw her. Truly saw who she was.
She missed his glances. She missed everything about him.
“Have you gone through the exhibition yet?” Sunny asked, cutting off Corrie’s thoughts.
“No, not yet. Did you help Ethan and Gabriel with all this? Because what I’ve seen so far looks incredible.”
Sunny smiled and stood straighter. “Thank you. We designed it together.”
Sunny had stayed with Ethan and hadn’t gone back to Yale, not after everything that had happened. Not with Ford no longer there. And certainly not with Dr. Crawley still lurking around, denying all culpability for the Vautour scandal. His tenure might have kept him at the university, but at least his reputation had been ruined. Corrie hoped he enjoyed his new position sitting in a crusty, dusty old office, shielded from the outside world.
“I haven’t seen Ethan yet. Where is he?”
“Over here, my dear,” Ethan said, taking a bow.
Corrie burst out laughing, good ole Corrito Burrito back in action. God, it had been a long time since she’d laughed like that.
“You are stunning, Dr. Mejía. Not that there was ever any doubt,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it before saying hello to Miri, then wrapping his arm around Sunny and kissing her on the lips.
Corrie laughed and rolled her eyes. “Quit being ridiculous.”
“I shall not!” he said, puffing up his chest like a knight in shining armor. “I do, however, have a surprise for you.” He relaxed his shoulders and offered his arm. “Come with me, milady.”
“I’ll be back,” she said to Miri and Sunny. She took Ethan’s arm and he escorted her to the exhibition entrance, still blocked off with a red velvet rope.
“After you. Before we open it to the masses,” he said, unclipping the rope to let her through.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
He nodded. “This one’s for you, Corrie. Have it all to yourself and soak it in.”
She reached over the velvet rope and grabbed his face, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Then she left the bustling entrance hall, went through the velvet curtain, and entered the Aztec Empire. Room by room, the exhibition detailed stages of the Aztec Empire and Chimalli’s life. Her heels echoed on the floor tiles as she slowly weaved through each room. She stopped at the glass case holding the tecpatl and sucked in a breath. Now that it was cleaned up, you could finally see it in all its glory. A far cry from the last time she’d seen it lying next to Ford’s bloody body.
The image of him lying beside the river flashed through her head, and she quickly shook it away. No. Don’t go back there. That day frequently invaded her thoughts, but the vision of Ford’s bloody body wasn’t something she ever wanted to relive.
She moved on to the next room to a new display titled, “Love Begets Love.” Hmm. Corrie made her way to the wall, to a photo of her and Ford at the dig site. She’d never seen this photo before, of the two of them kneeling beside the foundation of Chimalli’s adobe home, smiling at each other as if no one was watching. Underneath the photo read a caption: LEAD ARCHAEOLOGIST DR. SOCORRO MEJ?A AND ASSISTANT ARCHAEOLOGIST DR. FORD MATTHEWS.
Lead?
Corrie turned as if to ask the question, but no one was there.
She moved on to the next photo in the display, this one of her and Ford laughing in the mess tent. Seeing his smile made her hurt. Who’d taken this photo? Where had they gotten it? Moving on, there were dozens of other photos of the two of them. Candid shots of them being real. Shots when they hadn’t thought anyone was watching. A plaque beside the collection of photos read: