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excitement and uncertainty that must have permeated everything and everyone. She could almost feel the hope of the people who’d come there so many years ago wanting to build a life on the shoulders of freedom. She could only imagine what it must have been like for the thousands of Africans torn from their homeland, doomed to a life of slavery and degradation, to one day be free. It meant different things to so many people. As the legendary conductor Harriet Tubman once said, “I freed hundreds of slaves and could have freed hundreds more if they knew they were slaves.”
    That very powerful statement resonated within Olivia like none other. How can people know where they can go, what they can achieve and the possibilities that await, if they don’t know who they are in the world — what was their purpose?
    It was not happenstance that of all the professions to choose from, Olivia decided to study anthropology. She was led in that direction because her own life was riddled with missing pieces, inconsistencies and half-truths. If she couldn’t construct the foundation of her own truth, then she would do it for others.
    Her cell phone vibrated on the countertop. She smiled at the Bach ring tone that was attributed to Dr. Victor Randall, her supervisor and on again, off again lover.
    Olivia pressed the green phone icon. “Victor, checking up on me?” She leaned against the backrest of the chair.
    “Yes.” He chuckled. “How are things — and you, of course?”
    “Well, I had a chance to briefly visit the site yesterday, but the weather was against us. I did get some photographs and… I met with the developer in charge of the restoration work.”
    “Connor Lawson.”
    Olivia beat back the sudden uptick of her heart. She drew in a breath. “Uh, yes, as a matter of fact.”
    “Hmm. Heard good things about his work. It’s really important that you two work hand in hand. Not only do we want to get the history of Dayton Village, but it’s going to be up to you to ensure that the restoration keeps in line with your findings.”
    Olivia frowned. “Mr. Lawson doesn’t seem to be the kind of man that would appreciate outside direction on his project.”
    “I’m not telling you to run his project. What I’m saying is that it’s imperative for our purposes to ensure that the restoration remains true to your findings. The site… is the only original community of freed slaves and Native American Indians on the Eastern Seaboard. I can’t impress upon you the significance of that. You are the eyes and ears. You are the one who must ensure that every detail is accurate.”
    “I’ve been doing this for a long time, long enough to appreciate the significance without a reminder course.” She felt his hesitation before he responded.
    “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise or to second-guess you. However, the grant is important, Liv. Plenty of eyes are watching. If we miss a step on this project we could potentially lose major funding across the board for the future. Not to mention that your five-year contract is up at the end of this project. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”
    Olivia blew out a conciliatory breath. “I know.” The weight of her responsibility and her future curved her shoulders.
    “I plan to come down in a couple of weeks,” Victor said.
    Olivia flinched. “Why? I mean, sure, but… why?”
    “The funders want a progress report and… I want to see you.”
    Her stomach knitted. She looped her fingers around her mug, as she’d suddenly grown inexplicably cold. She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. “Looking forward,” she finally said.
    “I’ll only be able to stay a couple of days… but I hope we can spend some time together, catch up. It’s been too long.”
    A filmstrip of their relationship played in front of her. Dr. Victor Randall could have easily had any woman that he wanted. He was a brilliant scientist with magazine looks, and a personality that was a mixture of