"Why? Are you looking for a broadsword or something?" joked Rebecca with a grin.
"Aw, common, Becky! I'm sure we'll see some awesome artifacts in here," begged Harriet as she tilted her shimmering blonde head to one side.
Rebecca merely shrugged in confusion, wondering why a teenaged girl would be so interested in relics of warfare from centuries ago. Still, Harriet's longing expression eventually melted Rebecca's chilly disinterest until she finally relented. "Alright, Harriet, let's go check out what's inside, then."
"Yay!" shouted Harriet as she pulled Rebecca past the threshold.
As they approached the first locked cabinet full of shields and swords, Rebecca wondered, 'Why is everyone yanking me around today?' Harriet moaned with delight as she pressed in closer to the thick glass, until her petite nose actually left a tiny mark on the pristine display. At that very moment, an elderly caretaker stepped in to observe the lovely blonde's obvious fascination.
"You know," he began with a tobacco cured voice, "that glass isn't going to clean itself, young miss."
Harriet blushed several shades of crimson as she spun around to apologize. "I'm so sorry, mister. I feel like a bull in a china shop today; I can't seem to stay out of trouble." Slowly, she began to pout until the warm stranger stepped in to console her.
"Oh, don't worry about it, child," said the gentle, gray-haired man as he sprayed the glass with a canister of glass cleanser. After pulling out a soft cloth, he added, "Actually, we don't get much interest in ancient weapons from folks your age. I must admit, I'm quite surprised by your curiosity."
"Do you oversee this entire exhibit?" asked Harriet in wonderment. "These displays are simply wonderful, sir."
"Actually, I do, ma'am, thanks. Oh, and please, call me Winston," said the old man as he rubbed his rag over the glass surface using tight, circular strokes.
Rebecca stepped in politely and said, "Pleased to meet you, Winston. My friend here is Harriet, and my name is Rebecca. We just graduated from high school yesterday."
Winston's eyes lit up as he said, "Well, that's a big step, ladies. Congratulations!" After putting away his cleaning supplies, he reached out and offered warm handshakes to each of the young adults. Rebecca could tell he was reminiscing about his own distant youth by the far-off, teary expression on his wrinkled face. "Make sure you enjoy these years," offered Winston with a grin, "for they will slip past you before you know it."
"We will, sir," whispered Harriet with sympathy. As she wandered from one stunning display case to another, she spotted a large crate, still nailed shut with a crowbar perched on top. "Say, what's in here, Winston?"
"Huh? Oh, that. I don't know, yet," said Winston with a hint of fatigue in his voice. "The invoice only said something about Athena. It was sent to us from one of our buyers stationed in Italy. So far, that artifact has been cloaked in secrecy. To be honest with you, I'm kinda curious to see just what's in there, myself." Just as Winston finished speaking, a tinny voice called out to him from a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt.
"--Winston, are you there?--"
In a flash, Winston grabbed the handheld device, unclipping it as he raised it to his lips. "Winston here."
"--Um, we have a situation in the medieval exhibit. Can you come upstairs, please?--"
"Sure," replied Winston, with a hint of exasperation in his rugged voice. "I'll be right up." Politely, he bowed to the pair of lovely women, saying, "If you'll excuse me, ladies, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere."
Harriet nodded her head as she said, "Thanks for showing us around, Winston." As he sped out of the room, Harriet eyed up the mysterious crate with a longing in her eyes that Rebecca had never seen before.
"Oh, no!" shouted Rebecca, a bit louder than she probably should have. "Perish the thought, blondie. We are NOT sticking our noses into that dingy crate, no matter what."
"Aww, common, Becky. You heard what Winston said about that crate! How can you possibly resist?" asked Harriet as she nudged her redheaded friend in the shoulder. "I mean, the item in that crate is probably thousands of years old. We could be the first people to lay eyes on it in hundreds of years!"
As Rebecca studied her friend, bouncing around in gleeful anticipation, she wondered if she should...
Wed Jul 19 19:10:04 2000