Twenty minutes into the flight, Hope Diamond tousled her short blond hair, baffled about the purpose behind this mysterious trip to Washington. When Janai Ross had called, Hope packed a suitcase and dashed to the air terminal, where she boarded the lady’s private jet. Sitting across from Janai, Hope smoothed her green silk skirt, expecting an explanation, but Janai seemed engrossed in her computer screen. Hope took a bite of toast and stirred her coffee. Suddenly, the plane hit an air pocket and dropped sharply. Clutching her coffee cup, Hope blurted out, “Janai, why this sudden rush to Washington?”
Hope’s face flushed, and she lifted her hands and let them drop in her lap. Normally, the founder and head of Diamond Security was very tactful with clients, especially her largest client.
Janai closed the lid on her laptop and appeared to be weighing her words. “I apologize. I haven’t explained because, frankly, I’m embarrassed. Heidi, the model who was to wear the Hope Diamond at our big fundraiser, broke her leg skiing. I have shamelessly hijacked you to step in for her.”
Hope’s eyes opened wide, and she caught her breath. She had never refused Janai, but this request was far outside her scope. “You can’t be serious. Why not simply hire another model?”
“No time.” Janai turned up her hands. “The dinner is Saturday, seven days and counting. Never mind background checks, the model must be the same size as Heidi—five-feet-ten and size six. The final fitting for the gown is tomorrow, and the photoshoot is Wednesday. We had to push things to the last minute because Heidi’s calendar was booked for the year. If I can’t replace her today, we’ll have no choice but to cancel the dinner.”
“That would be terrible, but Janai, I’m not a model. You know how much I enjoy Fashion Week. Professional models radiate an elegance that I simply don’t have.”
“Please, Hope, all I ask is that you think about it on the plane. You’re beautiful, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could pull it off.” Janai’s strong voice carried a pleading note Hope had never heard before. Janai was CEO of a global cosmetic empire, and over the past couple years, she had become the force behind a fundraiser for a homeless village that would house 50,000 individuals and families in Los Angeles.
Janai’s eyes held Hope’s. “This is the reason why I’m begging you. Fundraiser aside, what guests are paying $10,000 a plate for dinner is to see the Hope Diamond in a way no one has ever seen it before. If I don’t find a model today, the ten million dollars in pledges we’ve collected so far will simply fade away.”
Hope swallowed. Of course, she wanted to help, but realistically, she lacked the skill. Modeling wasn’t as easy as professionals made it look. She had to find a way to gracefully refuse. She took a deep breath and looked at Janai. The words she wanted to say stuck in her throat, but others spilled out. “Piece of cake. I’d love to do it.” Hope rubbed her arms at a sudden chill traveling down her spine.
Leaning back, Janai’s eyes closed. After a moment, she reached out to Hope. “I knew I could count on you to come to my rescue. Know that I am very grateful.”
Hope lifted an eyebrow. "Is there more at stake here than the fundraiser?”
Janai wiggled a finger. “I forgot about your famous intuition.” She paused. “The homeless shelter is truly dependent on the fundraiser, but the event is also important to me personally. I plan to use the theme, ‘Building Hope,’ for my presidential bid, and the dinner will be the springboard for my campaign.”
At fifty-five, Janai defied her years with clear skin and snow- white hair swept away from her face. The tangy scent of her perfume floated past Hope as Janai tilted forward. “You grasp the significance, right? Even though the money for the shelter will be secure, anything that goes wrong at the dinner could jeopardize my campaign.”
The weight of her words pressed on Hope’s shoulders. “Why are we going to Washington?”
“Not only Washington, but you’ll go to New York tomorrow for the fitting.” Janai paused, locking eyes with Hope. “As you can imagine, exhibiting the Hope Diamond in public is risky. The necklace must be protected. Jake Sanders, the deputy director of the FBI, will meet us when we land. I’ve asked him to go over his plans with you. Security is your bag, Hope, so be honest with him about anything you want changed.”
Hope blinked. The tables had been turned. She was accustomed to providing protection for her clients, but wearing the Hope Diamond cast her as the potential victim.
Welcome to Washington. The handsome man whose dark eyes hinted of mystery greeted Hope and Janai as they deplaned. Clean shaven, tall, and slender, Jake wore the worry of his job on his face, but his stern expression was unexpectedly softened by a lopsided smile.
Janai greeted him with relief in her voice. “Hope has agreed to model the Hope Diamond at the dinner. Please discuss your security arrangements with her.” She hugged Hope. “Audrey will email your schedule. I must return to Los Angeles immediately.” She put up a finger as she walked away. “Charge everything to my card.”
Hope sent Jake a helpless look. “How did I wind up modeling the Hope Diamond?”
“We can talk at the Front Door. I’ve made dinner reservations. It will be like old times.”
Jake was a frequent patron at the restaurant, and the waiter took them to a corner booth and brought wine without asking. Waving off the menus, they ordered the house specialty, Prince Edward Island mussels.
Settled in the booth, Jake smiled. “How do you feel about wearing your namesake?” In response to her expression, a twinge of anxiety crossed his eyes. “Are you worried about the curse?”
Touched by his concern, Hope lowered her eyes. She had been in a long-distance relationship with Jake, but while on a murder case on the Navajo Nation, she had fallen in love with another FBI agent, Matthew Dennison. As fate would have it, Matt had once worked for Jake.
“I wasn’t worried until I heard the lady about to wear it broke her leg.”
Jake grinned. “Which is how curse stories spread.” “What do you know about the curse?”
He crossed his legs and slumped back. “Legend has it the stone was stolen from a Sita idol in India, and temple priests put a curse on anyone who possessed it. Jean-Baptiste Tavernier allegedly stole the diamond from the temple and was supposedly killed by wolves.” Jake rolled his eyes. “Tavernier died at age eighty-four in Moscow.”
“What happened to the diamond?”
“The saga of the Hope Diamond could fill a library. What I’ve read is that Tavernier purchased a 110-carat diamond in 1666 and named it the Tavernier Blue. After cutting the stone, he sold one section to King Louis XIV as Le bleu de France, or, as we say, the French Blue. The diamond passed through the hands of other owners, some of whom met unfortunate ends. Marie Antoinette was beheaded, but thousands of others who had never even seen the diamond suffered the same fate.”
Sipping his wine, Jake glanced around the restaurant. Then his gaze returned to Hope. “During the early stages of the French Revolution, in 1792 to be precise, thieves broke into the Royal Storehouse and stole most of the Crown jewels. Over the years, pieces were recovered, but the French Blue didn’t turn up until 1812. Interestingly, that was just after the statute of limitations for the theft expired. When it appeared, it was in the possession of Daniel Eliason, a gem merchant in London.
The waiter arrived with their entrée, and Hope took in the briny, fresh aroma.
Jake unfolded his napkin. “As far as the curse goes, Smithsonian researchers debunked the temple priest story. They traced the curse back to Pierre Cartier. In 1911, he apparently created the story to embellish his sales pitch to Edward and Evalyn McLean. As it happens, after the purchase, the McLeans’ son and daughter died tragically. The couple divorced, Edward went insane, and—”
“Stop, Jake! You’re creeping me out.”
“I was going to say the curse stories took on new life. I don’t believe in curses. In my world, bad things happen every day.”
Hope put her hand to her throat. “But you believe something bad will happen to me if I wear the diamond. I can see it in your eyes.”
Picking up a mussel, Jake slid the meat into his mouth, his eyes fixed on his companion. “Not because of any curse but because the Hope Diamond is a magnet for thieves. The evening is doubly dangerous because the wealthiest people in the country, not to mention Hollywood stars, will be attending. I wouldn’t want you to be caught in the crossfire.”
Laughter and conversation filled the restaurant, but Hope pulled her suit jacket tighter. “Danger is what I signed up for when I took on Janai as a client.” Hope shifted in her seat. “I’ve never seen the real Hope Diamond.”
“It’s a beautiful gem, although I don’t think any stone is worth two hundred million dollars, and some say three-fifty.”
Jake tapped his fingers together. “The guests at this soiree are millionaires, and they know the diamond will be out in the open, something that may never happen again. I’m cynical enough to believe a thief is already under contract.”
His words reawakened the sense of danger Hope had felt the moment she’d agreed to model the necklace. For a few hours, she would be wearing the most famous diamond in the world. Would Jake be able to protect it? Would he be able to protect her?
Her body tensed, and Jake must have noticed her anxiety. “I tried to talk Janai out of the idea. The Hope Diamond is not only valuable, but it’s practically a national treasure. This stunt puts it at risk.”
Touching his arm, Hope whispered. “No one could have talked Janai out of the idea. It is strategic to her political plans.” She paused. “Why are you involved? This doesn’t seem like an assignment for the deputy director of the FBI. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”
He looked deep in her eyes, “You may remember that when we met, I was the Art Thief program manager. I became entrenched in the security plans then, and I’ve been asked to see them through.”
The moment they’d met two years ago was special, and his eyes seemed to be asking if that spark could be reignited. But that moment was gone. Hope straightened her shoulders. “If the diamond is stolen, how could anyone sell it?”
He sighed. “No need to sell it. The thief could hold it for ransom or, worse, steal it for an unscrupulous collector. Then we’d never see it again.”
Jake’s phone buzzed. When the call ended, he turned to Hope. “That was Janai’s admin. You’ll get an email, but here’s a quick summary. After the Smithsonian tomorrow, you’ll head to New York to work with the dress designer. On Tuesday, another session with the designer, and you’ll fly home. On Wednesday, you’ll have a makeover and photo session at Paramount Studios. Rehearsals on Thursday and Friday. Show time on Saturday.” He smiled. “As a thank you, the gown and accessories are yours to keep.”
“Including the necklace?”
Jake leaned back and laughed. “It’s great seeing you again, Hope.
That cowboy I had the misfortune to hire is one lucky hombre.”
They’d finished dinner, and he phoned for a taxi. After walking outside, Hope stepped into the cab and waved goodnight to Jake. She asked the cabbie to drive around the White House. It was the second of December, and the Nation’s giant Christmas tree glowed red, white, and blue. She dug out her phone, but the call went to messages. Pulling in her disappointment, she smiled. “Hi Matt. I’m away on business and won’t be in Los Angeles when you arrive. I’m sorry, sweetheart. See you soon.”
In the morning, snow fluttered down and landed against the window where Hope and Jake were eating breakfast and discussing the FBI’s security plans. He went over the information, but Hope said she would have to see the venue before she could appraise the plan properly. After their discussion, Jake’s driver took them to the Smithsonian. As they entered the curator’s office, a tall man, straight backed, with a thick shock of white hair, rose, and a woman in the office also stood. Turning toward Hope, Jake extended a hand to the two. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Carter Christiansen, curator of the gem collection, and Millicent Marchant, security manager. This is Hope Diamond. She is head of Diamond Security, a protection agency in Los Angeles.”
The man took her hand. “Call me Carter.”
Millicent, a striking Black woman, wore a stylish lilac jacket with a wide streak of black angled down from the shoulder. “Hope Diamond?”
Hope lifted her shoulders slightly in an embarrassed shrug. “My mother is in show business, and she thought it would be brilliant to have a Hope Diamond of her own.”
Even the curator smiled.
Jake cleared his throat. “We just learned that Heidi, our model, broke her leg skiing. Hope, here, has graciously agreed to step into the breach.”
Millicent let out a gasp. “No! I vetted the models personally. Background checks, modeling experience—everything has been meticulously arranged with the diamond’s safety in mind. You can’t bring in someone new now.”
Jake’s eyes registered surprise. “Because of Hope’s professional credentials, a background check won’t be necessary.”
“But what experience does she have? She could ruin the entire presentation of the Hope Diamond.”
Hope’s quiet voice flowed into the storm. “What do you suggest, Millicent? The final fitting for the gown is this afternoon.”
Clearly flustered, the woman looked at Carter. His white head bobbed around at Jake. “I agree with Millicent. It’s too risky to pull in an unknown at this stage. I recommend we cancel the event.”
Jake’s eyes met Carter’s, and his voice held that edge of FBI steel. “Ms. Ross personally chose Ms. Diamond as the model. Canceling is non-negotiable.”
A thick silence settled over the room. Jake gestured toward the hall, obviously trying to diffuse the tension. “If you don’t mind, Hope would like a glimpse at her namesake. We can continue our discussion afterwards.”
Carter escorted them, apparently pleased to show off the museum’s prized exhibit. “I like to give visitors a little history about the diamond. Harry Winston, a jeweler, purchased the Hope Diamond in 1949 from the Evalyn McLean estate. In 1958, he donated it to us as the foundation for a U.S. gem collection. Curiously, he mailed it in a plain box wrapped in brown paper. He put two dollars and forty-four cents’ worth of postage on it and added $142.85 for a million dollars’ worth of insurance.”
A glint of pride tinged Carter’s voice. “For forty years, the necklace sat among other jewelry—.” He let the sentence hang a few seconds until they entered the Harry Winston gallery. “Then, in 1997, this gallery opened.”
The dramatic room drew all eyes to the Hope Diamond pavilion in the center. The necklace was encased in a marble-and-glass miniature mausoleum under a lighted dome, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling pillars. At the display, Carter touched the glass. “This glass you’re looking through is bullet proof.”
Hope’s eyes followed the diamond, rotating ever so slowly inside the glass vault.
Carter’s deep, soothing voice described the cosmic mysteries of the gem’s evolution. “Most gemstones form in the middle layer of the planet, and diamonds are generally colorless.” He put his fingers together in a circle. “These boron-blue gemstones originated much deeper, likely in the planet's hot mantle.”
He paused, taking in Hope’s eyes. “Your eyes are the same deep- blue color as this diamond.” After a moment, he continued. “Blue diamonds generally weigh a few carats, lightweights compared to this one, which weighed 112. It’s been cut over the years, but at 45.52 carats, the Hope Diamond is still the largest Blue in the world.”
In the quiet, softly lit hall, Hope whispered. “The idea of wearing this phenomenal jewel takes my breath away.”
“It will be an historic moment. As the first woman to model it in this way, you will now become part of the Hope Diamond lore.”
Hope clasped both hands on her throat. “I promise to model it with the respect and decorum it deserves.”
Shifting his feet, Jake looked at Hope. “Shall we move on?” “Of course.” Yet the stone seemed to pull at her with an invisible thread as she walked away.
In the office, Millicent stood with her arms tightly folded across her chest. She looked directly at Jake. “I’d like a copy of the table arrangements if you don’t mind.”
He shrugged. “The seating plan is not yet final.”
Letting out an irritable sigh, Millicent put hands on both hips. “When will it be final?”
“At the rehearsal.”
“I assume the press will be kept out.”
“A handful of photographers will be allowed inside.” Her mouth tightened. “Why is that?”
Jake fiddled with his FBI ring. “As you know, after the dinner, the diamond will be on display in L.A.’s Natural History Museum. A portion of the ticket fees will go to the homeless shelter, and the event organizers want a lot of publicity to draw in visitors.”
Pointing her long, purple nails at Jake, she asked, “How will you protect the necklace after Hope finishes modeling it?”
“All I can say is that it will be protected.”
Carter squared his jaw. “I find your attitude offensive, Mr. Sanders. We are trusted employees of the Smithsonian, and we have
