She flipped on the overhead light and peered down at her unexpected find. A gold star inside a circle with a large stone the color of skim milk in the center, the whole amulet was just a little larger than a quarter. “Aw, it’s scratched,” she noted, fumbling for the magnifying glass on the shelf. “No, wait…these are deliberate markings. Symbols of some kind all around the circle and the arms of the star. What language is that?” Turning it over, she found the back was covered with the same oddly slanted etchings. She peered at the opaque gem through the magnifier and for a moment, it looked almost as if something shifted inside it. Pausing, she shook her head at the outlandish thought.
“Talk about your overactive imagination. Pretty, though. I’ll wear it to work tomorrow–no, today. Shit.” Without another thought about the strange amulet, she headed for bed to try and catch another couple of hours sleep before the morning alarm.
The Tampa Museum of Art Gift Shop opened at ten sharp on Saturday morning. As the Director of Merchandising–which sounded much more official than manager- -Colleen unlocked the plate glass doors right as the ornate grandfather clock chimed the hour, wishing again that her usual clerk hadn’t requested the day off. Not that she had plans or anything, she sighed, but still–it was the weekend and normal people did stuff on the weekends. Like go on dates and have lives. She sighed. Nope, not going there.
The large shop stayed busy throughout the day with tour groups and families coming and going. She sold informational books and replica items, candy and souvenirs and kept the brochure racks stocked as best she could with pamphlets advertising area attractions. With a pleasant smile glued to her face, she gave directions and made innocuous small talk with the wide variety of customers that dropped in to buy mementos of their visit.
After an afternoon rush of last minute purchases from a large senior tour group, the shop was empty and Colleen seized the opportunity to straighten up. She headed for the brochure rack first to restock yet again. “I can’t believe parents let their kids just wreck it like this,” she grumbled. She had just completed the mind numbing task of restoring each pamphlet and postcard back in their original slots when the front door chimed, announcing the arrival of yet another visitor. She turned to greet the newcomer and gasped. Tall, handsome and oblivious to her presence, he glanced quickly around the shop.
Hello, Gorgeous. “Hi, can I help you?” she offered with a friendly smile.
“I was lookin’ for a soda machine,” the man said, seeing her smile and raising it with a grin of his own.
“Just over there,” she said, waving him toward the back wall where the small cooler resided. After making his selection, he browsed the coffee table art books for a moment, picked out a child’s coloring book, grabbed a couple of candy bars then headed for the counter, placing his purchases in front of her.
Mmm–tall, dark and…married. Shit, she thought, noting the wide gold band when he pulled out his wallet. “Will there be anything else?” she managed to ask without sighing while she bagged up his items. When she didn’t get a response, she glanced up to find him looking at her amulet with a curious expression on his face.
“Sorry–not meaning to stare, but ’tis quite an interesting necklace you’re wearin’,” he apologized, his quiet voice rising and falling in a distinct Irish brogue. “Might I inquire where you got it?”
Colleen’s hand flew to her neck. “Thank you. My grandmother sent it to me from Ireland.”
He was clearly disappointed at her admission. “I had hoped you bought it here. My wife would love to have one like it. I thought it might be Celt from the design. Would you mind…” He motioned toward the amulet.
“No, not at all.” Colleen unclasped the necklace and placed it before him on the counter. The man bent to look more closely, tucking a long auburn curl behind his ear when it tumbled into his face. He frowned then glanced around as if searching for something. Taking a book magnifier from a nearby display, he examined the curious markings on the star again.
“Do you know what the language is?” she asked. “I thought it might be Gaelic or something like that, but–”
“It’s not,” he interrupted her. “Unless I’m mistaken, this predates that. Ever hear of the Irish Book of Invasions?”
“Um…no?” she said, furrowing her brow at the strange question.
“One of the invasions was the Tuatha De Danann, the faery folk. Legend has it they brought the magick to Eire. This lettering appears to be similar to what’s in the book.” He straightened and put the magnifier back on the display. “I’d offer to buy it, but I know it’s not for sale,” he said with a shrug. “And even if it were, it would far surpass what I could afford. This is very, very old. I’d be careful with it.” He warned, then with a twinkle in his dark green eyes added “And I suggest you not be wishin’ for anything you don’t truly want while you’re wearin’ it. Just in case it was to be enchanted by the sidhe, you know.”
With a polite nod and a smile, he picked up his bag and left the shop. She refastened the necklace and patted the amulet, a rush of excitement flooding through her at the mere thought of faeries and mystical talismans. “One necklace to rule them all.” She giggled but after a moment gazed off when the full impact of his strange words hit her. “What would I wish for…” she mused, making a mental note to search the Book of Invasions on the internet after dinner.
The museum closed promptly at five-thirty, but the gift shop stayed open until six to catch the remaining stragglers. Colleen glanced at the clock and cringed in anticipation of the inevitable.
“Colleen!” a bright voice called out, interrupting her thoughts and dashing her hopes of avoiding what she knew would be an unpleasant encounter.
“Marc,” Colleen said, not raising her head. Resigned to her fate, she sprayed glass cleaner and wiped down the immaculate counter top again, giving the nonexistent grime her full and undivided attention.
Marc Simmons–assistant museum curator, ex-husband and official bane of her existence–sauntered in and up to the counter. At just over six feet tall with an athletic build, Marc still looked exactly like what he used to be twelve years ago–a former student body president and All American collegiate football star until a knee injury ended his budding career. “Listen, I just wanted to stop by and say…I know what yesterday was. I’m sorry things had to work out as they did. Everything going okay with you?” He managed to look almost interested for a moment before something under his fingernail caught his full attention.
Narcissistic creep. “I’m doing great, thanks,” Colleen lied. She continued to wipe like a woman possessed. June Cleaver would have been proud.
Marc leaned against the counter, placing one hand squarely on the area she had just cleaned and smoothed back his collar length blond hair. “Wonderful to hear. Are you seeing anyone yet? You really should, you know. Get right back into the dating game. Best thing for getting over the…uh, unpleasantness…of the past.”
Correction. Narcissistic arrogant creep. “Yes, actually I am,” she lied again. “We’re really happy. Move, please,” she said, wiping his smudged handprints off the glass. Add inconsiderate to that. Oops–news flash, her inner voice muttered, you already knew that. She would have laughed, had she not been so annoyed.
The smug smile on Marc’s face faded just a little. “That’s wonderful,” he said, his voice lacking a little of his earlier enthusiasm. “Anyone I know?”
“No, you don’t know him. He’s…not from around here,” she said. “And I’m meeting him for dinner, so I need to finish up here if you don’t mind.” She stepped around him, walked to the front door and held it open.
He took the hint and walked outside. “I’d like to meet him sometime. Maybe we could all go out to dinner some night, me, Brandi, you and…”
Colleen