The museum had its perks, and I planned to continue utilizing them as long as I could.

“I won’t tell Francis about this if you won’t,” I joked, and Barren let out a deep chuckle.

We finished picking up the documents, and I helped him move the boxes out of the exhibit area to the back offices, the area off limits to the public. It was where I did most of my work as assistant curator.

I pulled my long, dark curls out of my face, realizing the work was more extensive than I originally calculated.

We walked back and forth together, picking up the twenty or so boxes one at a time.

“Three years, and you still won’t tell me the secret to getting on her good side,” Barren teased as we stacked the boxes in a corner of the office space.

Filing cabinets sat beside them, some of the drawers partially open, brand new and empty. I knew Barren would soon fill them with most of our records. I ordered the new organization system myself only a week prior. Before, all the documents had been stored in the basement in cardboard boxes, which Barren and I now hefted across the museum.

“There is no secret.” I shrugged.

“Oh, come on,” he pushed. “You can’t tell me you became her favorite by coincidence?”

“I’m not her favorite,” I muttered under my breath, already regretting my choice to help.

It was the same old thing every day. I’d worked my ass off to get the position, and most of the long-time employees despised me for it. They whispered constantly about the ways I must have flattered Francis to get the position.

I rolled my eyes.

Every shift, I came in early and stayed late. I put in extra hours at the museum to document records and sort through them. I helped research new exhibits and planned events. Each time I went the extra mile, Francis trusted me a bit more, enough to stop looking over my shoulder at my every move.

Freedom to conduct my personal research—it was the only reason I took the job in the first place.

“I gave some thought to the exhibit idea you pitched,” Barren said.

At last month’s team meeting, Francis invited new ideas. I couldn’t waste the opportunity to make my true goal more obtainable.

“I don’t think it’s a great idea,” he said warily.

Neither had Francis at the meeting; she’d shot it down immediately. I’d presented a bit of my personal research, but as soon as I started, she cut me off, turning down the idea. Instead, she tasked me with a new project: updating a few of our existing exhibits to give them new appeal.

“But it’s a piece of this town’s history,” I pointed out, not willing to give up hope just yet.